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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27559546">zkxxdlin's Twitter Drabbles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zkxxdlin/pseuds/zkxxdlin'>zkxxdlin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EXO (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic, Drabble Collection, Family, Fluff, Honestly this was just me being self-indulgent lmao, Humour, M/M, Mpreg, Romance, Teeny Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:15:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>27,031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27559546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zkxxdlin/pseuds/zkxxdlin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I've collated most of my drabbles from Twitter here, for easier reading! The drabbles I've included are:</p><p>1. An Innocent Question<br/>2. Wedding Wails<br/>3. A Promise of forever<br/>4. A Wish For Two<br/>5. Let's Make It Official<br/>6. My First Word<br/>7. Princess Drama<br/>8. The Kitchen Krisis<br/>9. With Love, The Parks</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. An Innocent Question</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When their 3 year old came back from kindergarten, stumbling over his feet in his haste to get to his husband’s home office, all whilst screaming </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Papa I need a pen!”,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Baekhyun only frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What for, Sweetie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to write something!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Baekhyun’s eyebrows only dug in deeper, furrowing closer together and resulting in the skin in between his brows to crumple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haneul had never been this excited, this hyperactive over needing his carrier father to write something, so of course Baekhyun was curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you need me to write, dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, his question had only fallen on deaf ears, what with the little tot having wrestled out of his socks (if the pair of tiny, baby blue puffs of cotton that were littered on the floor were of any indication), running off towards the direction of Chanyeol’s home office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun could hear the little thuds, the endearing </span>
  <em>
    <span>pitter-patter</span>
  </em>
  <span> of small feet against the wooden flooring, and he made no effort in suppressing the smile that stretched across his lips as a result.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally stepping out of his own shoes, and toeing off his own sneakers, Baekhyun languidly walked towards Haneul’s room, a habit that had developed over the past year, needing to put Haneul’s school bag back in its proper place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ever since Haneul had started kindergarten, or pre-school, moreso, it had been a habit, a routine, really, for the toddler to be the one carrying his Ironman themed school bag in the morning, as he goes to school, and for his fathers (either one of them) to be the one carrying it on the way back home, after they’ve picked him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like a trade-off, in a sense Which was why Haneul could run off straight to wherever he wants in their house after they’ve come back home, without needing to have to drop by his room first to put down his bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And today, the place of choice was none other than Baekhyun’s husband’s own home office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... which was... weird, considering how Haneul tended to outright </span>
  <em>
    <span>avoid</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chanyeol’s office as much as he could, having had associated that room to “Angry Daddy”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(... I mean, with how many idiots the Director had to deal with on a daily basis in the very confines of that room, it’s completely and utterly understandable why he’d be, well, angry, most if not all of the time in there.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was why Baekhyun was quite surprised when he realised that Haneul had taken off to his husband’s office, and maybe even slightly worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not because of the possibility that Chanyeol would be working and might even be in the midst of a Skype meeting (because his husband had to be at the Main Office today, and hence couldn’t work from home), but because even when Haneul had needed a pen before, he’d always, always ask Baekhyun to be the one taking the pen for him instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So this situation was entirely alien to the Father, and it could only mean that whatever Haneul had wanted him to write was something that was really, really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun was immediately startled out of his reverie as soon as the shrill, impatient cry rang about the house, echoing down the hallway, and the Father only hurriedly placed his son’s school bag down before swiftly walking over to the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Baby?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun was only greeted with the (cute, endearing, adorable) sight of Haneul scampering down the hallway, feet pitter-patting against the floor as one of his hands curled around a black pen, and the other gripping down onto a... fairly crumpled, piece of paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly crouching down, Baekhyun only stuck his arms out once he had settled down on his knees, a grin splitting across his lips as he waited and braced himself for the impact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Haneul, the fun, loving and lovely little toddler, had only taken his father’s open arms as a sign of invitation, his own shorter, pudgier limbs stretching wide as he barrelled </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> into Baekhyun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A series of squeals and giggles, of bright laughter and wide smiles soon enough melted away the quiet, serene silence of the house, the joy and happiness currently being experienced by the pair seeping and curling into every corner of the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Folding his arms tighter around his son, Baekhyun quickly pressed a quick kiss to Haneul’s soft, smooth, and puffed up cheek, before pulling back in order to rub noses with one that was a mirror of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This, of course, had only elicited another bout of giggles to erupt from Haneul’s little chest, the toddler visibly flushing as happiness consumed him, and his father wasn’t fairing much better either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun had his own matching grin painted across his lips, his eyes curving up into tiny, little crescents as all the affection and love he had for his son seemingly conjugated into a tight little ball, before bursting, rushing through his veins and sparking his nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Papa!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh,</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Baekhyun a </span>
  <em>
    <span>goner.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling his own heart swell just a little more in his chest, the warmth blossoming and spreading, lighting up the Father from the inside, Baekhyun could only grin wider, feeling his cheeks start to strain in its efforts to contain a smile so wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Papa loves you too, Baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This had only managed to pull an even bigger grin from little Haneul, the corners of his lips stretching up even more, the rows of tiny, baby teeth showcased through his bout of giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haneul had only proceeded to wrap his arms tighter around his father, limbs curling around Baekhyun’s back, and hands digging into the muscle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and, considering how Haneul was actually holding one of Chanyeol’s fountain pens (something that was very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> sharp, and also very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> expensive— but nevermind that), Baekhyun had instantly felt the sharp digging of the tip of the pen in his back, a hiss slipping past his lips as a result.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Momentarily broken away from the haze of fond affection, Baekhyun swiftly pulled himself back, unintentionally arching away from the hug as the pain registered itself in his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haneul, of course, was startled too, breaking out of the haze as he registered the suppressed hiss of pain that slipped past his father’s lips, his own eyebrows furrowing and gaze worried as he glanced at Baekhyun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Baekhyun was quick to pick up on the sudden change in his son’s gaze, able to register the slight dulling of Haneul’s always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> bright eyes, and had hurriedly pulled himself back straight, pushing the sharp sting to the back of his mind in his haste, his need to comfort his worried son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa’s fine, Haneul-ah,” Baekhyun reassured his son, voice soft and gentle, comforting. He then proceeded to reach back out to his son again, hands curling around the small back, gently coaxing Haneul closer to himself before pressing a long, soft, and reassuring kiss on his son’s forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to worry, okay?” he had whispered, the light tilt to his voice the giveaway that he was smiling, “Papa’s strong!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And little Haneul had only giggled, the veil of worry melting away in light of his joyous, happy father, his own energy sparking back up again to match that of his parent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, before Haneul could lose himself in his glee yet again, Baekhyun had quickly proceeded to wrap his own hands around his son’s fists, fingers curling around the pen and paper clenched in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And apparently, that was all it took for Haneul to remember that he was, in fact, actually holding something, and the impatience and excitement from earlier on had quickly come rushing back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh— oh! Oh! Oh!” Haneul exclaimed, eyes blowing wide as his mouth curled up into a tiny little “o”, “Papa! Papa! I need you to write on here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And what else could Baekhyun do, really, when he was faced with an excited, seemingly exhilarated little tot, but revel in the same joy and same happiness as him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(... But considering how Haneul was carrying an almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>weapon,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I guess the other thing that he could do would be to, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>take it away from him first).</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright, dear,” Baekhyun had cooed, his own giddy giggle slipping through despite his efforts to reign his emotions in, “where do you need me to write?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Haneul had quickly yanked his hands back, handing over the fountain pen back to his Father (something which Baekhyun was extremely thankful for, having had sighed in relief a little too), and using both hands to spread the piece of crumpled paper as wide and as neatly as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I need you to write</span>
  <em>
    <span> right here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Papa!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as Baekhyun took in the sight of the paper; the letters printed on them, and noticing two out of the four blanks filled in, Baekhyun could only widen his eyes in quiet, and amused surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Chanyeol...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the call of his name, Park Chanyeol had swiftly turned around, the exhaustion and lethargy immediately slipping off of his frame as he hurriedly twisted his torso about the bed, eyebrows raised and eyes widened, </span>
  <em>
    <span>apprehensive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>However, all </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> had managed to pull out of the smaller one laying on the bed was a roll of his eyes coupled with a huff of breath, an amused smile playing across his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax, my goodness,” Baekhyun had drawled, “I’m not mad at you or anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Chanyeol’s frame had instantly deflated, the fatigue and weariness from the day’s events seemingly rushing all at once, and pushing the broad, muscled shoulders down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my God, you don’t know how </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified</span>
  </em>
  <span> I was right then, Love—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have seen your face, Darling, you looked like you saw Death in its face!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” a pout, “Stop laughing at me, you know you’d be the same if I addressed you by your actual name!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the last sentence, Baekhyun only quietened down, silence, comfortable and serene, beginning to envelope the master bedroom in its arms once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... About that,” Baekhyun continued on, “... do you think that, perhaps, we may be using our nicknames for each other, I guess, too much...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol could only frown, visibly confused and maybe even slightly distressed, the effort he was putting into figuring out whether his husband was actually being serious or not (and, if he was, what the hell even brought this on), because Chanyeol completely, thoroughly, utterly, definitely, a-100%-ly, disagreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Why? Did someone say something? Oh my God, tell me Love, I’m gonna sock that fucker in the—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> a stern gaze, a throw of a pillow, “don’t even think about that. I am not going to subject myself to being the pitiful Husband of one that got thrown in jail because of assault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Well, then what is it? Because I am not anywhere near the day I stop addressing you as “Love”, Love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Eh—... well, it’s Haneul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A furrow of brows, a confused purse of lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... What about our son, my Love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Well, he came back home with a parent’s slip, today, because the pre-school is taking the kids to the zoo, and they needed their parents to sign. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... and on the form, there were four blanks, two for the parents’ names, and two for the parents’ signatures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haneul had already filled up the ones for our names, and you know what he put on the blanks?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He put ‘Love’, for me, and ‘Darling’, for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... Silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Well, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> got our names right, I suppose— </span>
  <em>
    <span>ow!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Our son doesn’t even know our names, Darling!“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can I blame him when </span>
  <em>
    <span>you yourself</span>
  </em>
  <span> contribute to that—</span>
  <em>
    <span>ow,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Love,</span>
  <em>
    <span> stop—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You contribute to it too!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah— shit, okay, okay! Stop hitting me with the pillow— </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey,</span>
  </em>
  <span> this is the one I got you for our anniversary!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I know, Darling, I sleep with it every night!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Don’t you sleep with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> every night tho—</span>
  <em>
    <span>OW!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“... You’re insufferable.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Upon catching sight of the scribbled and, if Baekhyun was being honesty, </span>
  <em>
    <span>barely legible</span>
  </em>
  <span> handwriting scrawled along the top two lines, Baekhyun couldn’t help it when his lips instantly pulled up into a smile, the soft pink curling around around a light laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Sweetie,” Baekhyun had cooed, eyes trailing back up to meet his son’s own, Haneul’s eyes rounded and wide as he gazed imploringly at his Father, clearly eager to get him to “write” his signature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Haneul’s gaze had only managed to pull out even more chuckles from his Father, the laugh crawling up his throat before spilling into the warm, serene air of the room, brightening up the calm atmosphere in his affection and amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Baby, this isn’t Papa’s and Daddy’s names.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> did Haneul </span>
  <em>
    <span>react.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost as if Baekhyun had told the little toddler that Santa Claus wasn’t real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his eyes widening into large saucers, into a size almost virtually impossible for his little face, Haneul only gasped in shock, jaw dropping in pure, almost trauma as he processed his father’s words.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Whaaaaaaat?!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> came the yell, Haneul’s tiny lungs practically concaving in on itself when he inhaled a breath large enough to release that shout, the toddler’s voice ringing about in the hallway as devastation consumed his features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyebrows scrunching up in confusion, in disbelief, the little toddler had only proceeded to wrap his hands about the fabric of his father’s cardigan, the little fingers curling and crumpling the fabric as distress began making itself apparent across the boy’s face; in the dimming of his eyes, scrunching of his nose, and curling of his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But—But </span>
  <em>
    <span>Papa!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Haneul continued on, eyebrows furrowing even deeper, causing a barely-there wrinkle to form in between them, “Daddy always calls you </span>
  <em>
    <span>Love,</span>
  </em>
  <span> right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And—And, Papa always calls Daddy </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darling</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right?” a pout soon enough began to paint itself across the toddler’s lips, the small, pink, and plump muscles (an almost exact replica of Baekhyun’s own) pursing into a little point as the distress only seemed to accumulate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa I even asked Teacher Jongdae to help with the spelling!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... At the mention of his college best friend’s name, Baekhyun could only cringe internally, the Father only able to imagine just how the pre-school teacher would have reacted upon Haneul’s reaching out to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongdae had been the first person to ever know of Baekhyun’s relationship with his husband, having had been the one playing Cupid, and he had also been Baekhyun’s Best Man at their wedding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and whilst he had been the only other rock, the only other pillar that Baekhyun had throughout the entire time he had found Chanyeol and up till today (the first rock and the first pillar was, of course, no one else but his very own Husband), he had also been the most insufferable idiotic Best Friend to have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For </span>
  <em>
    <span>every, single time</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Chanyeol and Baekhyun would even so much as display any form of normal physical affection, that little fucker would always either cringe, gag, or begin swatting his hands in the couple’s general direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(... But honestly, if you’d actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> what Chanyeol and Baekhyun considered to be normal physical affection, you wouldn’t blame Jongdae.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, you’d actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>join</span>
  </em>
  <span> him.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... which was why Baekhyun’s grin, that had been painted on his face the entire time Haneul had been having his episode of pure, sheer, three-year-old distress, had soon morphed into that of a pained grimace, the corners of his lips freezing unnaturally so as what could be Jongdae’s only reaction began playing through his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An exaggerated cringe, an exaggerated gag, and an even more exaggerated “I’m gonna need to throw up”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... that fucker—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haneul’s cry had instantly broken Baekhyun out of his reverie, Baekhyun’s gaze instantly clearing itself of the (wanting-to-sock-Jongdae) haze, and focused itself on his son once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haneul was on the verge of tears, the veil of clear, pure water lining along his eyelids alongside the crumpling of his soft chin acting as enough of a warning to the parent, and Baekhyun instantly pulled his palm up to cup his son’s cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the touch of warm skin against his own soft one, a touch so familiar, ringing in its comfort and care, Haneul instantly burst, questions spilling past his lips as fat, fat tears began streaming down his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean Papa!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can your name </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be ‘Love’?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy always calls you that, just like how Haneul calls Papa ‘Papa’!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does this mean that Papa and Daddy are lying?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you call each other fake names—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweetheart,” Baekhyun instantly consoled, voice gentle and soft, comforting and fond, as he began to instead wrap his arms around his son, pulling the small body closer to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a gesture that was very much appreciated and very well received by the toddler, for Haneul’s cries had instantly quieted down, the loud wails and sobs muting down to soft whispers and sniffles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Baby, Papa and Daddy didn’t lie to you,” the father had continued on, speaking only once Haneul’s sobs had died down, palm smoothing large, soothing circles onto his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... but—,” Haneul had retaliated, arms tightening their grip around his father’s neck, limbs having had instinctively migrated there as soon as Baekhyun pulled him in, “then why did Papa say that his name isn’t ‘Love’...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and honestly, Baekhyun couldn’t help the soft huff that escaped his lips, the love that he had for his love reminding him of its presence in the form of the warmth blooming in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Sweetheart,” he started, palm trailing up from his son’s back to nestle on his son’s head, cradling it as he carried on, “you know how Papa and Daddy call you ‘Baby’, ‘Sweetie’, and ‘Sweetheart’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slight nod was pressed into his skin by his son, and then and only then did Baekhyun continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... And you still respond to us when we call you that, right? Even though your name is Haneullie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Baekhyun felt another nod, although this time much slower, and much more subtle, against the skin of his neck, and he knew immediately that Haneul was close to getting his point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Well, it’s the same for Papa and Daddy, Baby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We call each other ‘Love’ and ‘Darling’, and we still respond to it, even though we actually have different, real names!” Baekhyun had ended off, voice turning a pitch higher as soon as he realised that he could no longer hear any sounds of sniffling and whimpering from the little one in his arms, satisfied and happy that his son had stopped crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... So,” Haneul had broken the silence, “... Papa and Daddy... weren’t lying to Haneullie...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A laugh instantly spilled past Baekhyun’s lips, the father not being able to contain the bright, and fond amusement rushing through his veins at his son’s innocent question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... We would never lie to you, Baby,” Baekhyun reassured, head tilting to the side as his lips searched for his son’s plush cheek, pressing a loud, long kiss there, “Papa and Daddy would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> lie to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(... Unless, of course, if it had to do with the weird deep groans and high moans and, sometimes, even cries and whimpers the toddler would hear in the middle of the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but Haneul didn’t have to know about that.)</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Wedding Wails</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The last thing that Baekhyun expected to come home to was a very confused, very distressed Husband, and a bawling two year old.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... What did you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing! I just showed him our wedding pictures and he started crying because we didn’t invite him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Chanyeol—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sounds of yet </span>
  <em>
    <span>another</span>
  </em>
  <span> wail, this time much louder and much more pitched, sharp and cutting, rang about the living room, all sourced directly from the little toddler situated right smack in the centre of the room, in the middle of a pool of photo albums. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two adults in the room instantly winced, shoulders hunching up and eyes clenching shut as hisses of pain slipped through their gritted teeth, the sharp ringing of their son’s cries almost stabbing their ear drums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, when they noticed that little Haneul’s cries weren’t stopping any time soon, both fathers quickly straightened back up, Baekhyun hurriedly spinning on the soles of his feet as he swiftly discarded his bag to one side, ensuring that his hands were free before he rushed over to the wailing toddler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweetie,” Baekhyun cooed, dropping down to his knees as he spread his arms wind, gently goading his son to topple into his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The father didn’t have to wait too long for Haneul had instantly taken up on his offer of a hug, the reaction habitual, </span>
  <em>
    <span>instinctual,</span>
  </em>
  <span> taking small, tiny steps across the floor before gently falling into his carrier father’s arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, with the falling of the young into his chest came the rather expected, although much less appreciated, heightening of wails, for Haneul had only cried louder, all thoughts on restraints and care for grace thrown out the window once he had registered that he was in a space that was nothing less than </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun, of course, could do nothing else but try his hardest to get their son to calm down, the cries and wails tumbling past Haneul’s lips not only hurting his ears, but his heart as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... which made sense, of course, for no parent liked seeing their child in pain, or in tears, no matter the situation or the context, and Baekhyun could feel his heart twinging even more, tightening even more, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurting</span>
  </em>
  <span> even more, with each and every cry that spilled past his son’s lips, that soaked into the fabric of his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... There, there, Baby,” Baekhyun cooed, one palm coming up to rub soft, soothing circles on the small, heavily </span>
  <em>
    <span>heaving</span>
  </em>
  <span> back, the little body encased in his arms jolting every once in a while as hiccups and sobs escaped it, wreaking havoc across the tiny frame. With his other palm, Baekhyun had nestled his fingers into the hairs at the back of his son’s head, fingers combing through the faint wisps of black there, touch gentle, soft, </span>
  <em>
    <span>comforting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Let’s not cry anymore, okay, Baby...?” Baekhyun mumbled, lips pressed against the soft skin of their son’s neck, nose nestled against the equally as soft jaw as he tightened his arms around the small body, pulling Haneul closer to his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun didn’t let up his soft touches and comforting words, soft mumbles of consolations slipping past his lips every now and then as he continued on in his ministrations, soothing the distressed child in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a while, oh, of course, but Baekhyun only waited patiently for Haneul to stop crying, for his wails and sobs to die down into soft sniffles and whimpers, and his loud hiccups muting down to quiet sniffles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(... Throughout all this, the other parent, specially, a certain </span>
  <em>
    <span>Park Chanyeol,</span>
  </em>
  <span> aka the Reason For This Mess™) only watched on quietly by the side, eyes wide and plump lips pulled into a tight, straight line, his tall frame lost and almost... defeated, really, as his feet planted themselves into the ground of where he was standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol actually wanted to comfort Haneul, just as much as any parent would want to comfort their crying child, but as soon as Baekhyun’s own gaze, sharp and pointed and yelling of very, very, Mean Words™, the taller Husband could only stand where he was, dejected and defeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come anywhere near our Son-whom-you-made-cry and I’ll castrate your flat ass” was what Baekhyun’s gaze had said, the single glance had said, the gaze so fleeting, barely ghosting over the taller’s frame (it literally only lasted like, two seconds), yet it was already enough for the taller to have his tail in between his legs.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Papa...” at the whimpered call for him, Baekhyun’s focus was immediately brought back down to the child in his arms, Haneul’s cries having tapered off into nothing, the upset and distress instead migrating over to his tone of voice, interlacing the syllables pushed past his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Yes, Sweetie...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Papa didn’t bring Haneullie...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Papa’s so mean...!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Papa you Meanie™!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(... technically, there was zero trademark (™) in Haneul’s speech, because, hey, he’s literally only a two year old who refers to himself in third person, and hence theoretically had zero knowledge of the use of emphasis in speech, but this was Baekhyun, aka the parent, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> any form of... </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate speech</span>
  </em>
  <span> that slipped past his son’s lips and was directed at him would be emphasised).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Baby,” Baekhyun interjected, wanting to stop Haneul’s little tirade, not wanting for his son to continue on in his rant, knowing that children were more susceptible to believe things spoken out loud (even if the words came from themselves).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and also because Baekhyun couldn’t handle his son accusing him of being an asshole— I mean, “Meanie”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Papa and Daddy didn’t bring Haneullie not because we didn’t want to, Sweetheart,” Baekhyun continued on, pulling back slightly from the tight embrace in order to finally look into his son’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Baekhyun’s heart had only crumpled in his chest, a rush of upset washing over his frame as he took in the state of his little toddler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Furrowed brows, watery eyes, reddened nose, pouted lips, crumpled chin, and tear tracks lining the flushed cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... Baekhyun felt his heart </span>
  <em>
    <span>break</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Sweetie, Baby,” Baekhyun cooed, hands coming up to cup Haneul’s cheeks, thumbs gently thumbing along the edges of his son’s eyes, wiping away all traces of tears, catching the warm droplets on his skin, “Papa and Daddy didn’t bring Haneullie because we </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Haneul had only frowned, the veil of sadness fading ever so slightly in light of the confusion brought about by his father’s words, and Baekhyun could only chuckle as the fondness and affection for his son blossomed in his chest, warming his chest yet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling lightly, Baekhyun only continued to wipe away the faint traces of tears, wanting to clean his son’s cheeks up as quickly, yet at the same time as gently as he could, thumb lightly tracing over the raw, sensitive skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Baby,” he murmured, voice taking on a lighter, higher pitch as soon as he realised that Haneul’s eyes were no longer saturated in the childish, innocent devastation as it had been earlier on, “... Papa and Daddy’s wedding was four years ago, but little Haneullie only came to us two years ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun had hoped that it was enough, thinking that Haneul would realise that “oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> why I couldn’t come”, but Haneul’s, again, literally only a two year old who refers to himself in third person, and Baekhyun was a new dad who didn’t know how children worked (... yet), so the even louder, even harsher sob should have been expected, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But why did Haneullie come so late!“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why didn’t Papa and Daddy get Haneullie earlier?!“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why did Papa and Daddy never take Haneullie to the wedding?!“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun had instantly cowered back, breaking away from the embrace as shock consumed him, his son’s louder wails startling him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and this was when Chanyeol had immediately stepped in, feet breaking away from where they were seemingly buried into the wooden flooring, his tall frame stumbling over his limbs in his rush to get to his bawling son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby, Haneullie,” Chanyeol had cooed, voice a little gritty and a little breathy in his hurry (... which spoke volumes of how fit the father was, really, considering how he was barely four metres away from them, but never mind that),</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa is wrong, Sweetie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and apparently those had been the magic words, for the little tot had instantly quietened down, wails and bawls dying out instantly, instead replaced by a whimper, high and hopeful, lodged in the back of the little one’s throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his son’s gaze now fixated on him, eyes bright and gleaming in thanks to the remnants of tears alongside the glistening twinkle of hope, Chanyeol gently crouched down, daunting stature dropping down to his knees as his palms slowly trailed up along his son’s pudgy arms before cupping his cheeks, position mirroring that of Baekhyun’s previously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Haneullie was with Papa and Daddy, Baby,” Chanyeol had continued on, one palm slipping from its perch on his son’s cheek, instead trailing down his son’s arm yet again before it curled around the small hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cradling the tiny hand in his own palm, Chanyeol gently curled his own fist, gently prompting Haneul to close his own, and it was only when the little toddler had his fist ready did the Father then bring it up to his own chest, placing the little one’s closed palm over his own heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... You were in our hearts then, Haneullie,” Chanyeol mumbled, voice soft and gentle as he gazed back at his son, watching fondly as he processed how Haneul had his gaze focused on where his own fist was perched on his father’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... but because you were inside of us, and not outside, like you are now, Haneullie can’t remember, and that’s okay,” Chanyeol had ended off, lips curling up into a light smile as he brought his son’s closed fist up to his lips, plump, pink muscles pursing and pressing a light kiss against the smooth skin there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Because now, Papa and Daddy are going to act out our wedding day, so that Haneullie can know and remember just how it went,” and Chanyeol had slowly begun to stand up, gently laying his son’s hand back down to where it was previously, hanging limply beside the little toddler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he was back on his own two feet, Chanyeol had turned towards his Husband (who, at this point, was only watching his taller husband in pure, unadulterated awe, clearly impressed by his parenting skills), and had slowly laid a hand out for him to take.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... That will make Haneullie happy, won’t it...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and both parents were only rewarded with a bright giggle, an elated smile, and a jubilant “Yes Daddy!”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know...” Baekhyun drawled out, twisting about the mused up sheets of their bed as he turned his body to face his Husband, “whilst I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> enjoy... </span>
  <em>
    <span>renewing</span>
  </em>
  <span> our vows in front of our son, I’m still not over the way you insinuated that Haneul was with us even then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Chanyeol had only frowned, the upset growing more evident on his face with each second as his brows started to furrow closer and closer together, the pout painted across his lips growing bigger and bigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell, that made him stop crying, didn’t it?” Chanyeol retaliated, arm coming up to wrap around his husband’s waist as he yanked him closer, knowing that if they were to be bickering over whose parenting skills were better, having Baekhyun closer enough (to, essentially, seduce him into agreeing with Chanyeol that the latter was the better parent) would be better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, when all that Chanyeol received was a roll of eyes and a light smack to his naked chest by the flat of his husband’s palm, Chanyeol could only wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I’m not angry that you got him to stop crying, Darling, in fact, I’m actually thankful that you did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... But what I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy about... is the fact that you basically, </span>
  <em>
    <span>essentially,</span>
  </em>
  <span> told him that he was in your ballsack at our wedding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as soon as he saw how Chanyeol had immediately parted his lips, in preparation to take his own side in their bickering, Baekhyun quickly placed his index on his husband’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that you said heart, Darling,” Baekhyun rattled on, needing to fill in the silence before Chanyeol could butt in with his own argument, “... but biology says otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had only rolled his eyes, a huff of disbelief pushing itself past his lips as he only pulled his Husband closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In my ballsack, in your ovaries, in our hearts, that doesn’t matter,” Chanyeol mumbled, all the fight leaving his frame as he burrowed into his pillow, the will to continue the bickering dying out as soon as he realised the basis of Baekhyun’s little tirade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dragging his hand from where it was perched on Baekhyun’s back, to instead rest above Baekhyun’s lower abdomen, Chanyeol gently shut his eyes as he mumbled out his final words for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... All that matters is that Haneullie’s out,” he had murmured, voice faltering and tapering off into nothingness, “... and we have another one on the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Chanyeol was gone for the night, the sandman taking his Husband in his clutches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a small, soft smile stretching across his lips, Baekhyun only burrowed closer to his husband’s chest, resting his head against the firm muscle there as he, too, whispered out his final words as sleep began to mute his senses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Yeah, that’s all that matters...”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Promise of Forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sehun only slid his eyes shut, chest heaving with a large intake of breath as he braced himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Braced himself to truly and genuinely, entrust his Father, the one who had given up half of his life to care for Sehun, to another man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Park Chanyeol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Are you ready, Dad?” Sehun had mumbled, voice tight in its emotion, the 19-year-old very obviously doing his damn best to hold back his feelings, to hold back his tears, at the prospect, at the realisation, of what exactly is going to transpire once they walk down the aisle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun had only smiled, eyes crinkling up along the corners, turning into adorable little half-crescents as his lips pulled themselves into a small, tiny grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pure happiness and raw elation could be seen from miles away, the single Father of one, aged a tender 40 had joy plastered and stamped all over his face, lining the minute creases along the edges of his eyes, across the laugh lines streaked across the bottom half of his face, and twinkling bright, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever so bright,</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Yes,” Baekhyun had whispered, gripping his son’s arm a little more tighter, fingers pressing into the sleeve of the black jacket draped across Sehun’s thick and firm limb, the excitement and anticipation coursing through his frame aptly bleeding right into his son’s skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Yes, I’m ready to get married, Sehun-ah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Sehun had only smiled, lips pursing as the words brought upon a tidal wave of emotions, of feelings he hadn’t, and wouldn’t probably never be ready for, what with the finality of his father’s words in regards to the closing of an old chapter and the welcoming of a new </span>
  <span>one ringing loudly about his ears, rushing through his veins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His Father was getting married.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His Father was finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally,</span>
  </em>
  <span> getting married.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Sehun could never be happier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What with him having been thrown into parenthood at the tender, young (so very young) age of 21, a junior in college at most, Byun Baekhyun had to have been a Father, a single one at that, upon the news spilling from the nurse’s lips at three in the morning, in the A&amp;E ward in the hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She didn’t make it, sir,” the nurse had mumbled, voice nothing short of remorseful, of pained and sympathetic, her own eyes fogging over, the youth dissipating in light of the weight of her words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pregnancy had been complicated, with Jihye having had a multitude of complications on top of the pain and weight of pregnancy. Her pains had been much more severe, her body much more weaker, and her immune system taking a beating. Couple that with the taxing effects of bearing a child much too large for her own frame, bleeding had been extremely common.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fainting had been common.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Baekhyun had suggested, at that time, so fucking in love and so desperate to be a good Father to a child he, although never planned to have, would willingly and wholeheartedly nurture and care for if he ever had to, had asked, begged, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pleaded,</span>
  </em>
  <span> for Jihye to abort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byun Baekhyun had went on his knees, cheeks stained and eyes reddened, words almost incoherent in the mass of sobs and cries that continuously, </span>
  <em>
    <span>continuously,</span>
  </em>
  <span> spilled past his lips, butchering his words, for Jihye to give up their son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because as much as Baekhyun wanted to be a good Father, a Father he never had…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... he wanted to be an even better </span>
  <em>
    <span>Husband.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And his fiancé, Choi Jihye, had understood, had hurriedly bent down on her own knees, clambering off of the hospital bed after being given the “okay” from the doctor for them to leave after yet another one of her many spells, had understood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but she hadn’t agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... We’re so close, Love,” she had whispered, the youth and tender sparkle that was characteristic, that was signature to every other 20-year-old lost from her eyes, the brown orbs that Baekhyun had fallen in love with all those years ago dulling down to a muted, somber umber as she clutched Baekhyun’s, as she clutched her </span>
  <em>
    <span>to-be Husband’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> clasped, shaking hands in between her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... We’re so close,” she had carried on, her own tears making themselves apparent as lines down her sunken cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Sehun’s going to join us so soon,” Jihye ploughed on, one hand dropping down from where she was holding Baekhyun’s hands, the frail, skinny, bony little hand, the ring finger adorned beautifully with a ring, one that Baekhyun wasn’t even close to paying off, down to her stomach, splaying over the bulge there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Sehun’s going to join us soon, my Love,” her voice had died down to a whisper, her own chin dipping down, the sharp point digging into her own chest, the bones of her rib cage startlingly obvious for someone well into their 6th month.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... and then,” she had paused then, Jihye needing to take a deep breath as a lodge had formed itself in her throat, choking her as her emotions got a little too much, “... and then, we can get married, Baekhyun-ah...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had smiled then, lips shaky and wobbly, but features no less stunning, no less beautiful, no less</span>
  <em>
    <span> breath-taking,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the happiness and excitement upon realising what Sehun’s birth would mean for the two of them, what their son’s birth would mean for their little family of three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... We can get married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but that hadn’t happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byun Baekhyun and Choi Jihye had never gotten to see their want, their desire, their </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise, </span>
  </em>
  <span>come to fruition, had never seen the bright array of lights bleeding through the stained glass lining the church walls, had never felt the exuberance of seeing each other down the opposite ends of the aisle, had never gotten to see the other in a princess gown nor a pressed tuxedo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... had never gotten to say their “I do”s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... For Jihye had left, for Baekhyun’s fiancé, for Baekhyun’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>to-be Wife</span>
  </em>
  <span>, had left them, had left him, the same day Sehun was born.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>April 12th.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byun Sehun’s birthday, and also Choi Jihye’s death day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun had immediately thrown himself into work, centering around pulling through his final two years of college, as well as caring for a newborn, being a Father and lastly, working enough on the side-lines at the restaurant in order to scourge enough money to pay the bills and to feed two mouths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t had proper time to heal, hadn’t had the luxury to truly and wholly immerse himself in his feelings, in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>loss,</span>
  </em>
  <span> of his Best Friend, of his confidant, of his one and only Love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For parenting was a 247 job, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun had been thankful, at that time, rather grateful for how parenting seemingly took up all of his time, soaking up and filling in all the gaps he previously had prior to Sehun’s birth, gaps he usually did not know what to do with, and would usually left to his own devices, his own thoughts, and his own companionship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For it meant that he had absolutely no time whatsoever to think to himself, to wallow in his own thoughts, his own being, and hence, wasn’t able to sit down and cry about how he had lost Jihye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But at the same time, it had been rather damaging, rather painful, for although he had been kept primarily and majorly preoccupied during this time, the wound, gaping and torn and slashed open, inflicted with infection and brimming, frothing with bacteria, hadn’t been truly taken care of, hadn’t been accounted for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... so when the day came, on the day of Sehun’s fourth birthday, when Baekhyun had finally put his son, </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> son, to sleep...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... Baekhyun absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>lost it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain, bottled up and sealed and compressed and hidden and shut away, the same pain that had taken root, that had sprouted a whole four years ago, that had ingrained into his very being, into his very soul, a whole four years ago, had compressed in on itself, before absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>exploding.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The cries had blown into sheer and utter wails, the tears so hot, so heavy, and so immense and so, so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> powerful, Baekhyun’s cheeks positively scarring themselves with each line that carved down the sunken skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had collapsed on the bed, curling up and in on himself as he let himself break, break, and break, for the first time in four years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... for the first time ever since he lost her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Body trembling, limbs shaking, and frame convulsing, Baekhyun had been nothing short of a desperate, pathetic mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pained, and hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Sehun, the bright little toddler, young and tender and so clean of any form of sadness, of remorse, of longing and pain, had immediately woken up, the sounds of his father’s cries having rung and echoed about the walls of their tiny little home, ear-splittingly loud and painfully torturous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling his own heart in his chest start to hurt, the vices of fear, of raw, unadulterated fear start to crawl up, tightening and pulling and squeezing along his heart, along his limbs, draining the blood from his face and pulling tears from his eyes, Byun Sehun had hurriedly scrambled across the ground, feet thumping against the tiles as he ran with everything and anything in his little body, wanting, </span>
  <em>
    <span>needing</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get to his Father as quick as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa?!” Sehun had called out, little hands slipping and sliding about the knob of his Father’s bedroom door, the fear having managed to pull out bead of perspiration about his palms too, “Papa?! Please open the door! Sehunnie is here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his father’s cries had remained ever so loud, little Sehun’s own words, frantic and panicked and so, so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> scared, all flying past and over Baekhyun’s own, his ears assaulted with his own cries as it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the determination was strong in the little one, the toddler bracing himself and pulling himself together enough, strength unbeknownst to most children aged four, strength that Sehun had found in light of his Father’s situation, in light of his Father’s emotions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hence hadn’t taken too long before Sehun had managed to grip the door knob enough, palms drying enough to give the child a sturdy enough grip, Sehun turning the door knob with ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little one had immediately been assaulted by his Father’s cries and wails, his begs and pleads, the “I miss you”s and “I love you”s thundering about the bedroom, cracked and butchered and so fucking lost and hurt and desperate, that Sehun himself couldn’t stop his own tears from falling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly padding his way over, Sehun only sniffled, wiping away the tears leaking past his eyelids as he bit down onto his trembling bottom lip, not wanting his chin to crumple even more, knowing, realising, that now was not the time for him to cry, that now was not the time for Sehun to cry, and not the time for his Father to be the one consoling him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... because it was now his Father’s time, it was now his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Papa’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> time to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... Something Sehun had seen him close to doing before, but had never, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever,</span>
  </em>
  <span> pushed through with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... so now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sehun was going to let his Papa cry, going to let his Father cry and wail and whimper and sob, because it was supposed to be good, his Father’s words of “it’s good to cry sometimes, Sehun-ah, it’s because we wash away all our hurt and our pain then,” he’d say, fingers combing through his son’s hair the one time Sehun had asked whether crying is a good thing, when it meant that people were usually sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... We can clear everything out; our pain and hurt leaving us in the form of our tears,” Baekhyun had continued on, feeding Sehun another bite of their shared cup of ice cream, a once-in-a-while indulge, Baekhyun’s paycheque not able to afford it anymore than he already could, “... and then once we’ve stopped crying, our pain and hurt would have left us too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... and we’d be so much happier, Sweetheart,” Sehun remembers his Father smiling here, eyes crinkling up  into little crescents as his words flowed between them, the understanding arising from the meaning imprinting itself onto Sehun’s heart then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... We’d be so much happier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was with those words ringing in his heart, blaring in his mind, did Sehun crawl up onto the little bed, quietly making his way over to where his Father’s figure lay, before situating himself right behind his Father, palms curled and body adopting a fetal position as he layed right behind him, acting as a sort of comfort, a pillar, a support for his Father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something which his Papa was to him too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had taken a while, of course it did, for Baekhyun to truly stop crying, for his wails and his sobs to die down, tapering off into muted sniffles and dying whimpers, as his entire frame grew lax, the tenseness and frigidity that had seemingly gripped his limbs in its unrelenting hold throughout the past hour melting off of his frame, his entire body now relaxing, pliant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was at that very moment that Baekhyun had swiftly turned around, Sehun’s unfocused little mind much too muddled to process what exactly was going on, what exactly was happening, having caught up on his Father’s actions once, and only once, his Father had him in his arms, his arms wrapped snug and tight around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Your Mother was beautiful, Sehun-ah,” Baekhyun had whispered then, lips pressed against the top of his son’s head, the cracked and abused skin speaking words that Sehun had always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span>, loved to hear, had adored, right into his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“... Your Mother was beautiful.“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night had been long, with the Father and Son both bundled up together under the thin, lone blanket, the duo snuggled up on the already small bed, their frames pressed right against each other’s, with Sehun’s head propped against his father’s chest as Baekhyun hooked his chin over his son’s head, their arms wrapped about one another, legs tangling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Baekhyun had talked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The melody that was his voice brightening, growing even more vibrant, colourful, with each anecdote, with each memory of Choi Jihye he spilt, with each recollection of Sehun’s Mother he shared with his Son, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> Son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Sehun had only kept asking, questions burning on his tongue, questions he had always been afraid to ask, what with how Baekhyun, although soft and accommodating, had always kept his answers rather short and clipped whenever the question revolved around his late, and absent Mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, with Baekhyun himself holding no more restraints, with Baekhyun himself so open, so ready, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>accepting,</span>
  </em>
  <span> of both Sehun’s questions and Jihye’s death...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... he answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He answered each and every question that little Sehun had, his answers long and detailed and so expressive, so colourful, the Father pulling out every bit of detail down to the T as he recited the memory, as he listed out his son’s mother’s favourites with vigor and passion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With </span>
  <em>
    <span>love.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And Sehun had never felt happier, never felt more whole and complete, not only because his burning questions have finally gotten the answers that he had for so long craved for, but he could see, had realised, just how absolutely in love his Father had been, his parents had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because with each word that left the lips of his Father, the twinkle in his eyes got brighter, his chest had warmed, had ballooned, and with each and every syllable that left Baekhyun...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... The life in his eyes had burned </span>
  <em>
    <span>brighter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a sight to behold, a sight Sehun would always, always remember, something that he had kept deep in his heart, ingrained into the back of his eyelids, even, well into the future, a whole 15 years later, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... because it was a sight of his Father finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, being truly, and genuinely happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So as the pair finally began their descent down the aisle, the red carpet underneath the soles of their expertly polished leather shoes gleaming beautifully amongst the colourfully stained sunshine bleeding into the church hall, Sehun could only smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... For the sight that his Father had been, for the twinkle that glimmered in his Father’s eyes, for the manner in which his chest had ballooned, had heaved, was all reminiscent of that one night all those years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reminiscent of that night when Byun Baekhyun, a single Father of one, had finally, finally, accepted the death of the late Mother of his Son, and had finally, truly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>let go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>... and had finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally,</span>
  </em>
  <span> allowed himself to be happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... and I’m ready to get married to the man I love, Sehun-ah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... As he was now.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Wish For Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What did you wish for this Christmas, Baek?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile, tight, worried, but hopeful, </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusting.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“... For Chanyeol to come home,” he whispered, hand perched on his lower abdomen, calming, soothing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“... for Chanyeol to come home to us.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been half a year, 6 months, 9 days, 4 hours, and 22 minutes, to be exact, since the day Baekhyun had bid his husband of three years farewell at the camp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it had also been a third of a year, 4 months, 13 days, 18 hours and 14 minutes since he found out the news.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cradling the bottom half of his abdomen, Baekhyun winced slightly as he felt the little one tumbling and squirming about in his womb, clearly quest and restless, the space growing much tighter and much smaller, unable to fully accommodate the ever growing baby.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“... Baby,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Baekhyun could only groan, lips pulling up into a grimace as a hiss slipped past his gritted teeth, jaw locked as the familiar, almost constant sensation of discomfort made itself known, blooming within his lower stomach before shooting up his spine, tingling the overworked nerves there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly latching onto the side pillar, Baekhyun only shut his eyes as he took in deep breaths, lips parting as his lungs desperately yearned for some air, needing to calm his steadily, rapidly beating heart down, an effect caused by the uneasy little one wrecking havoc in his womb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smoothing his palm over his enlarged belly, Baekhyun quickly hushed out a few words of comfort and reassurance, light, fond whispers of, “it’s okay, it’s okay”s, “it’s only your Grandma and Grandpa’s house”s, alongside, “don’t you want to meet your cousins?”s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And apparently, Baekhyun’s words </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> help calm the barely 6-month along child nestled in his womb, for the expecting carrier had instantly felt the way his child had calmed down, visibly soothed and at peace, if the way in which the squirming and fidgeting had stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the dying down of the squeamish little baby, Baekhyun’s own hand movements started slowing down, gentle rubs and soothing palms losing their rhythm, the large, wide smoothing across the abdomen tapering off into nothing, Baekhyun’s hand soon enough coming to a halt, perching itself at the base of his tummy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his lips pulling up into a smile, the ends of the plump, pink flesh lifting up into a soft, fond, curl, Baekhyun only glanced back down at his enlarged stomach, his own eyes dropping down to half mast, gaze growing just as soft as his smile as soon as his eyes landed on his growing tummy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I guess that’s why, huh...” Baekhyun mumbled, head tilting to the side just a tad as he gave his belly a final pat, “... I know you miss your Daddy too, Baby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... and they’re as close as we can get to Daddy right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving his tummy one last, final rub, Baekhyun slowly, ever so carefully, pushed himself off of the pillar, frame gently righting itself back on his two feet, stabilising, before he proceeded towards the main entrance of the Park residence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Situating one foot in front of the other, snow boots thumping against the stone of the porch, Baekhyun finally allowed himself some reprieve from the pregnancy-induced stress, basking in the serenity winding about in the air, contributed only by the gently falling snow and the muted, although obvious, holiday cheer saturating the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Parks had always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> embraced Christmas, always embracing the festive season with wide, open arms, the Christmas spirit  having been, seemingly, part of their family tradition, perhaps even family heritage, really, with just how big their celebrations can get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it wasn’t necessarily big in terms of the people who visited and how grand the Park’s annual Christmas party was; it had nothing much to do with the price tags labelled on the goodies and the gifts, on the Christmas tree and the ornaments, but more so with how intensely one could feel the Christmas vibe, the Christmas spirit, in their hearts whenever they were to be in the company of the Park family this time of the year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... for Christmas was all about giving, was it not...?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Baekhyun, if he were to be completely, and truly honest, would say from the very, very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very,</span>
  </em>
  <span> bottom of his heart, that he knew no other person, no other family, that was as generous as the Parks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the family was one of pure, and utter gold; with values and morals of saints, with hearts of pure cold, with endless, boundless, limitless affection and care and love to give...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... the Parks were a blessing, a gift to everyone they have ever encountered, a joy to each and every path they have crossed, and a light in every, single, life they’ve touched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Baekhyun would always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always,</span>
  </em>
  <span> without fail and without even a single second of hesitance, would never forget to thank them, would never forget to pray for them, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and would never forget his gratitude, his appreciation, and his love, for the family that had welcomed him, that had taken him in, that had allowed him to love, to care, and to have their youngest’s hand in marriage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun was blessed to have come across the family, to have come across their youngest, and he knew it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and he was even more blessed to have found love, one that was mutual, one that was reciprocated, by none other than the son, than </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> son, himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Park Chanyeol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun’s Best Friend, Baekhyun’s fiancé, Baekhyun’s Husband, and Baekhyun’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>soulmate.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Baekhyun’s very own Angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Park Chanyeol had been nothing less than a pure, bright, and lone white light in what would otherwise be a dark, dull, and dreary life, the man seemingly having had popped up out of the blue in Baekhyun’s life, bright smiles and warm eyes, open arms and a big heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Baekhyun remembered having had rejected the taller then, heart wounded and scarred, limbs lined and mind traumatised, fear and rejection being the only two factors coming into play whenever a decision had to be made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... for Baekhyun had been through, had gone through things, had seen, heard, and said things that were things that shouldn’t have been seen, that shouldn’t have been heard, and that shouldn’t have been said by someone that young, by someone like Baekhyun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but when, all your life, you had been nothing but a toy, body and mind played with and manipulated, taken and abused and hurt and hurt and hurt...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... it was a defence mechanism at best, really, the 50-inch slabs of iron that Baekhyun had built, rooted deep into the ground and painstakingly crafted, years and years and years of pure, unadulterated torture being the only thing driving the walls up, and up, and up, and the walls longer, and longer, and longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but at worst?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... It was Baekhyun’s way to kill himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... for shutting out people, had soon developed into shutting out voices, and developed into shutting out noises, and then, eventually, shutting out sights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Chanyeol saw through all of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Park Chanyeol had seen through each and every single one of Baekhyun’s devices, eyes drilling and boring into the man’s eyes, searching, searching, and always, always searching, the large, bright orbs always carrying in them faint glints of care, of calm, of hope, of love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and it had worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had definitely taken a while, a few years of unrelenting, consistent, resilient and meticulous pushing and pushing and pushing, yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but it had worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Baekhyun—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... Baekhyun would never, never forget the second when he woke up, and his first thought hadn’t been “... why am I still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and he would always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always,</span>
  </em>
  <span> be grateful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Chanyeol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... for his Angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... which brought him back to now, years after that fateful day, years after that life, where Baekhyun is loved, cared for, and purely, completely, and simply happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>... and he wouldn’t have it any other way.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baekhyun!” came the cry, Yoora’s eyes, an exact replica of his husband’s own, widening in shock, the traces of surprise evident in the furrowing of her brows and parting of her lips, “I— We— </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pick up!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling sheepishly, Baekhyun simply grinned back up at his Sister-in-law, lips stretching around an endearing, adorable little grin, one that was characteristic to him and him alone, before he reached his free hand up to the back of his head, scratching at the base of his scalp there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah—,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, the expecting carrier had been interrupted, the sound of crashing and hissed groans, alongside hushing and shushing echoing out rather loudly in the Park house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his own brows furrowing, confusion began seeping into the lines of Baekhyun’s face, confusion morphing his features into a frown as he cocked his head a little to the side, pure curiosity driving him to try to look around Yoora and into the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Yoora had quickly picked up on her Brother-in-law’s actions, and had quickly pulled the door closer to herself, wanting to minimise the scope that Baekhyun had of the house as much as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but all that managed to accomplish was an even more frown-y Baekhyun, the pout painted across her Brother-in-law’s lips pulling themselves into a bigger, more exaggerated one, as he tried even harder to look around her frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Yoora had been pretty adamant, for she had only pulled the door even closer to herself, her own eyes widening even further as her lips pursed themselves into a straight, thin line, her plump lips curling inwards as her gaze bored into Baekhyun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noona—,” Baekhyun called (more like whined, really, but never mind that), arms now perching themselves both under his belly, cradling the enlarged stomach as he, essentially, glared at Yoora, pout only growing deeper the longer Yoora stayed rooted to her spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noona what’s happening ins—,” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Baekhyunnie!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> came yet another call, Baekhyun’s words instantly dying down to a whisper as soon as the voice had rang out, the distinct tone belonging no one else but his Mother-in-law, the woman hastily padding over before gesturing to Yoora to open the door wider, inserting herself right next to her daughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Yoora, at this point, had only frowned down at her Mother, her own lips pulling into a pout, expression morphing into one of confusion (one that, honestly, Baekhyun had grown familiar with, having had seen that expression painted across his husband’s own features every time he was confused about something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... which was, to be honest, a lot of the time).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Mama Park had simply nodded, head bouncing almost placatingly so, and Yoora, upon seeing the hasty, and maybe even a little... reassuring nod, had only turned her face around, eyes flitting over the inside of their house, seemingly searching for something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... which was... </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh—,” Baekhyun mumbled out, frown never having left his face as his eyes flickered back and forth between his sister- and Mother-in-law.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... What’s going on—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh— Nothing, my dear,” Mama Park had instantly reassured, her characteristic grin blossoming across the bottom half of her face once more, stretching her lips wide as she waved her palm, brushing off Baekhyun’s question, almost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes—,” she carried on, turning her head back around and sweeping her gaze over the expanse of the house, before nodding and flipping her head back around, this time pushing the door wider before gesturing Baekhyun to come in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on in, dear,” she cooed, stepping aside (and startling Yoora, too, before prompting her daughter to do the same), and holding out a hand for Baekhyun to take, “I’m sure you must have been cold, and how did you even manage to put on your boots? Oh my, you did this all on your own? Baekhyunnie, why didn’t you call us—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and immediately Baekhyun got lost, head whirring about the seemingly endless questions and concerns spilling past his mother-in-law’s lips as she gently pulled him in, her own small, frailer hand curling protectively around Baekhyun’s own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh—,” Baekhyun replied (pretty dumbly, if I may add), mind blanking as he blindly followed along, feet dragging against the soft carpet behind his Mother-in-law, mindlessly following her as she made her way to the living room couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, Baekhyun was greeted with the warm rush of air, the fireplace heating up the cold, chilly air, the warmth seeping past his sweater, sinking into his skin, and warming his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little one in his womb definitely appreciated it too, for Baekhyun instead felt him squirm and fidget about, although the sensation, the reasoning behind it now was much more different as compared to when they had been out on the porch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His child was... excited, not so much uncomfortable, and Baekhyun, feeling himself too getting wrapped up in the holiday cheer, simply labelled it as his baby, too, rejoicing and embracing the Christmas festivities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, dear,” his mother-in-law cooed, gesturing for Baekhyun to settle down on the couch, herself too taking a seat as she patted the spot next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abiding (because, honestly, can someone ever say “no” to their Mother-in-law...?), Baekhyun carefully plopped himself down on to the couch, leaning against the backrest of the couch, sighing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Baekhyun hadn’t rested long before Yoora had come scampering over, dropping down to her knees as she gestured for Baekhyun to lift his still booted feet up, resting them on the ottoman in order to free his feet of the thick, heavy boots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abiding yet again (because, the argument still stands, can someone ever say “no” to their Sister-in-law...?), Baekhyun gently brought his feet up, one at a time, onto the ottoman, his enlarged belly needing him to take a few seconds longer in order to get his feet where they have to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Yoora and Mama Park had helped him, of course, gently lifting up his legs and feet in a manner that wouldn’t jostle the belly too much, and before long, Yoora had already started working on unzipping the snow boots and placing them aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Why didn’t you call one of us to pick you up, dear?” his Mother-in-law asked, voice soft and gentle, void of any traces of amusement, instead laced in pure curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Yoora added on, her own gaze curious and even slightly worried, her hands now perched along Baekhyun’s legs, calmly pressing and massaging the flesh there, knowing how Baekhyun’s legs would be feeling just around the sixth month of his pregnancy, what with her having gone through the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have called one of us, and we would have picked you up, you know,” she continued on, fingers kneading the strained, right muscles wrapped about Baekhyun’s legs, gaze breaking away from that of her Brother-in-law’s to instead focus on where her hands were massaging the flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I didn’t want to bother you guys—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What nonsense!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the flabbergasted, almost offended chorus instantly assaulted his ears, Baekhyun wincing in light of the pitched exclamations of shock, two pairs of eyes instantly boring into Baekhyun’s own, fondness and affection dissipating for a moment as the momentary shock washed over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baekhyun you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> a bother!” Mama Park had only rattled on, one palm coming up to curl around his shoulder, prompting Baekhyun to gaze, bashful and embarrassed, back into her own eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what Mom said,” Yoora pitched in, agreeing, hands stilling as she focused her attention and gaze entirely on her Brother-in-law.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“... especially now that you’re pregnant,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yoora had ended off, although, this time, she had inched forward a little, before bringing up a hand to cup around the side of her mouth, whispering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, of course, had only served to confuse Baekhyun, the question hovering over his head as to why his Sister-in-law was whispering about his pregnancy only managing to pull his features into a frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, it wasn’t like as though his pregnancy was of any secret in this household, considering how his husband’s family was the first ones to know about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... *Okay but why are we whispering...?*” Baekhyun asked, voice breathy and brows furrowed, wonder evident in his tone as he inched forwards slightly too, mirroring Yoora’s actions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But all that Baekhyun, or, more accurately, Yoora received was a light smack to the top of her head, courtesy of none other than her mother herself, the woman’s own lips curling up in slightly annoyance, eyes boring into her daughter’s own in what could only be... warning...?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mind her, dear,” his Mother-in-law carried on, palm now rubbing soothing circles along her Son-in-law’s arm, as a means of reassurance and comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But anyway, you should have called!” she continued on, voice tilting up ever so slightly in the end, diving back into the tone that Baekhyun was much more accustomed, much more familiar with, “My Husband, or even Jaewon would have picked you up! The men aren’t even doing anything in this house—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey—!” came the indignant cry, echoing down the hallway, trailing back up towards one of the rooms in the house, the upset and petulance obvious in the cries, “we can hear you, you know?!“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that had only served to coax out a bout of laughter from the three seated in the living room, the Mother-Daughter pair falling into a fit of giggles and Baekhyun turned his head about, laughter spilling from his own lips as he searched for the source of the voices, the wonder of where his Brother- and Father-in-law could be hiding situating at the back of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you guys?!” Baekhyun called, torso tilting this way and that in order to try to look into as many of the crevices and hallways present in the house as possible, curiosity eating away at his frame, wondering just what the hell the other men were doing, “come and join us here if you aren’t doing anything, I guess!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah—,” came the reply, the tone of voice sounding very much like his Brother-in-law’s, and had everyone in the room perking up, “give us a minute! We gotta carry something over!“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and that had definitely gotten Baekhyun’s interest piqued, for the expecting carrier had only frowned even further, brows digging deeper into his forehead as his gaze bore into the hallway, the one he had identified the men to be in, and it wasn’t long before the sounds of faint grunting and shuffling started to echo down the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, Baekhyun managed to spot both his Father- and Brother-in-law walking down the hallway, although...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... What is that...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a... long, rectangular, piece of... something, that is, and Baekhyun couldn’t make out what it was considering how it had been all wrapped up, the jolly face of none other than Santa Claus stamped all over the wrapping paper meticulously wrapped about the... present (...?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I thought all our Christmas presents were wrapped and put under the tree already—,” Baekhyun mumbled, gaze sweeping over the large, majestic Christmas tree situated right at the corner of the room, before flicking back over to the pair carefully trodding their way over to the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His Mother-in-law, of course, picked up on his confusion instantly, and had quickly proceeded to place her hand over her Son-in-law’s arm, rubbing smooth, soothing circles over there, reassuring and comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... This gift had only arrived today, Baekhyun-ah,” she mumbled, lips curling up into a soft, fond smile, eyes warm as she gazed at her Son-in-law, “... it’s Chanyeol’s gift to you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, all that her words had managed to do was upset the expecting carrier, for Baekhyun had instantly deflated, his shoulder slumping in light of what could only be the reality of his situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother-in-law had instantly picked up on his emotions, though, for she had immediately began smoothing large circles down and about his arm, wanting to soothe and comfort the dejected Baekhyun as much as she could, knowing what he was thinking right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... We know that you wanted nothing else but Chanyeollie’s presence here, Baekhyun-ah,” she murmured, voice soft, fond, yet empathising. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gazing back at her Son-in-law, Mama Park quickly noticed how Baekhyun’s had slowly started to mist over, gaze focused down on his fiddling fingers perched atop his enlarged stomach, bottom lip held back by the front row of pristine teeth, ignorant of the manner in which her Husband and other Son-in-law were finally standing in front of them, in front of Baekhyun, specifically, holding the gift in their hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... But he couldn’t make it on time,” she continued on, trying her best to comfort Baekhyun and not let him cry, knowing how much her heart would hurt seeing her precious Son-in-law cry even more, feeling her own heart start to clench already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving Baekhyun’s arm one final rub, Mama Park then proceeded to trail her palm back up the limb, before cupping around her Son-in-law’s cheek, prompting him to gaze over at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and it was only then, only when she knew she had his gaze on her, his watery, reddish, and so, so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> close to spilling, eyes on her, did she continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Chanyeol wanted you to open this as soon as you came, dear,” and with that, she had gestured over to the rectangular, wrapped block, smiling softly, wanting to comfort and to reassure Baekhyun as much as possible, ignoring the hurt blossoming in her chest as she finally, finally saw, one lone, single tear breaking past the dam, slipping down Baekhyun’s cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun, of course, had noticed it too, and had immediately raised one shaky palm up, index finger pointed as he hurriedly wiped the tear away, teeth digging deeper into the plump flesh of his lower lip, wanting to stop his chin from crumpling even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I just want him back for Christmas, Ma...” Baekhyun had whispered, lips curling up into a grimace as more tears slipped past, trailing down his cheeks, staining them as his fingers worked their hardest to wipe them off as quickly as possible, not wanting to break down but, seemingly, already on the way in doing so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I don’t want his gift—,” Baekhyun had hiccuped, his own palms and fingers shaking as his emotions started to pile up on each other, building and building and building, the want, the need, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>longing</span>
  </em>
  <span> for his Husband eating away at his soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the only thing that Baekhyun had wanted for Christmas, the only thing he had ever asked for on Christmas, and that was to have his Husband right there with him, to be with him, to be with them, and to walk the final few months of his pregnancy, of their pregnancy, together with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but apparently even that had been too much to ask for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I just want </span>
  <em>
    <span>him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ma—,” Baekhyun whispered, the emotions getting the better of him as his throat began to clamp up, the muscles constricting as a lump began to lodge itself there in his throat, choking.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“... I just want him to be with me—,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Baekhyun continued to hiccup, and he hadn’t had to wait long, hadn’t even had to wait a single second, even, before he felt arms start to wrap themselves around his frame, the comforting presence of both his Mother- and Sister-in-law enveloping him, their familiar frames sending waves of comfort, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>love,</span>
  </em>
  <span> over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Sh, sh,” his Mother-in-law consoled, palm smoothing over his hair, petting the soft strands, at the very same time pulling him in, holding him closer to her chest, before pressing light, soft, and fond kisses against his temples, affectionate and motherly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... We know, dear,” she continued, voice not a beat louder than a mere whisper, pressed right against the skin of Baekhyun’s temple, “... and Chanyeollie knows too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... But you know how the military is,” she continued on, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, or moreso, the realist, as she continued doing her best to calm down her crying Son-in-law, petting his hair and rubbing his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... but Chanyeol really, really, really wanted you to open this as soon as you saw it, dear,” she murmured, palms coming up to cup Baekhyun’s reddened, tear-stained cheeks once more, smiling softly as she wiped away the tears that were still trailing down the soft, plump flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... He said that it would make him very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy if you do that...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was with that, did Baekhyun finally nod, eyelids fluttering shut as the last remnants of his tears slipped past his waterlines, staining his red-splotched cheeks one final time, before he pulled himself back from the embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning back around, such that he was facing the wrapped present, Baekhyun slowly, yet ever so steadily, took in and let out a few, deep breaths, wanting, needing to calm himself down and to clear his head as much as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and it was only when Baekhyun felt that he was calm enough did he blink his eyes back open, and wipe the remaining tears off of his cheeks, before he curled his fingers around the bottom half of the wrapped gift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and with all the strength that he could muster in his 6-month pregnant frame, gave one, tug upwards, and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Y—Yeol—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and that was it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... for the “gift” had been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mirror.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Chanyeol—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chanyeol!“</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>... Chanyeol came home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeol—!“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>... The Park family hadn’t had to wait long before the entire living room was overcome with cries and sobs, Baekhyun instantly collapsing back down on the couch, his own palms starting to shake yet again as feelings once again consumed him whole, senses overwhelmed and nerves tingling in light of the situation, of the reality, of his reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... For Chanyeol had </span>
  <em>
    <span>came home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I’m right </span>
  <em>
    <span>here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> my Love,” came the deep, gritty tone of voice, one that was signature, one that was characteristic to no one else but his very own Husband, echoed about his ears, the familiar, ever so strong, ever so comforting arms proceeding to wrap about his frame, pulling him into the warm, warm, warm, chest, into his own home.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“... I’ll always be here.“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t know the gender of the baby...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Chanyeol’s question, Baekhyun simply turned around in his husband’s embrace, his own palms coming up to soothe over his Husband’s equally as splotched, and equally as irritated cheeks, a consequences of the simultaneous bawling the both of them did once Chanyeol had processed and understood and absorbed the fact that he was going to be a Father, at the same time Baekhyun had processed and understood and absorbed the fact that Chanyeol was here with him, physically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wiping his thumbs under his husband’s eyes, thumb smoothing over the damp, soft flesh there, Baekhyun simply giggled, the happiness blossoming in his chest seemingly too much to handle for his lithe frame, escaping through his laughter as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I wanted to wait til you were home, Yeollie,” Baekhyun whispered, grin dropping down to a small, soft, but equally as fond, equally as loving smile, “... I wanted us to know our baby’s gender </span>
  <em>
    <span>together...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Baekhyun only pursed his lips, the plump, pink flesh enticing, calling out to his Husband and Chanyeol hadn’t had to think twice before he had swooped in, arms wrapping as tightly as he could around Baekhyun’s waist, wanting to make sure that his Husband was still comfortable and that he wasn’t hurting the baby, their baby, in any way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... But what if I came back home after you gave birth—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ow?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> going for longer than eight months from here on out, Park Chanyeol,” Baekhyun threatened, tone void of any semblance, any ounce of amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I’ll castrate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Kinky—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ow!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Let's Make It Official</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chanyeol’s son, Park Jongin, already calls Baekhyun “Papa”, whilst Baekhyun’s own, Byun Sehun, has already been addressing the older Park as “Appa”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re already pretty much a family, so...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘... Why not make it official...?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had never thought he would ever cross paths with love ever again, ever since passing of his girlfriend all those years back, her death day the same as their son’s birthday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Chanyeol at that time, aged 26, had no time to grieve over her passing, the weight in his heart as well as that in his pocket, a secret surprise, having, needing to be forgone in light of the presence of the little one, </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> littlest one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Park Jongin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The babe had been an absolute beauty, having had taken all of his features from his Mother, being the exact mirror image of the late Kim Jinae.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had absolutely no time to recuperate after that, the grieving over having lost his Girlfriend of six years, his supposed fiancé having taken the back seat as Jongin overrode each and every priority he had; becoming his one and only concern for the first few months after her death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been difficult, of course, what with him being thrown right into parenthood as a solo player when all this while he had been preparing himself as a part of a duo, as a part of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>couple.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So it was no surprise when the first few months of Jongin’s life was filled with nothing but tears and hair grips and breakdowns, Chanyeol’s paternal instincts no match for the maternal ones seemingly ingrained in each and every Mother, in each and every carrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But whilst taking care of Jongin had been an absolutely nightmare, an absolute pain (when spoken about in the perspective of a young, single Father), Park Chanyeol would never, ever, trade those months for anything else— would never trade Jongin for anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Jongin, amidst his cries and tears and wails and screams, had been a certain Park Chanyeol’s one and only light, one and only pillar, for the months, for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> following Jinae’s passing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain had been so raw, wound so fresh and cut so deep, that Chanyeol had thought, had even went so far as to believe that he would never heal, that he would never find someone to help patch up, to help fill the wide, gaping, and deep, deep, deep hole left in his heart by Kim Jinae; his Best Friend, his pillar, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>love of his life.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So imagine his surprise, when on the day of Jongin’s fifth birthday, his eyes had remained rather dry, no sign of wetness, no haze of devastation, of depression in sight, as he watched how his son, how their son, had precariously placed the bouquet down onto the soil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had come as a complete shock to Chanyeol, the Father having had not noticed how his heart had felt much lighter, how his eyes were much drier, how his shoulders remained straightened all throughout the short half hour they stayed at Jinae’s grave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it had remained that way, Chanyeol’s composure not having had crumbled in the manner it would have the past four years, the Father surprisingly content, at peace, and maybe even a bit happy as he helped clean the grave of his son’s Mother, ridding the soil of weeds and wiping the stone clean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Chanyeol had only realised, had only acknowledged his change in demeanour, once Jongin was back in his arms, his son’s pudgy little arms wrapped loosely around his own neck, Jongin’s sleepy little face buried into the skin there, mumbling out a low, “... You didn’t cry today, Appa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The information had been completely and utterly unexpected, something Chanyeol had thought that he would never ever hear in the mornings on Jongin’s birthdays, the thought of ever hearing how his eyes would be dry being so alien that Chanyeol had discarded the possibility of it ever occurring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... But it had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had occurred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and it had only taken five years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had remained stupefied, frame going still as his eyes widened in shock, jaw hanging open as he stood in the middle of the pathway, processing his son’s words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jongin, amidst the haze of sleep, had only pushed himself away from his burrowing in his father’s neck, furrowed brows causing the soft skin in between them to crumple adorably, confused pout speaking miles of the child’s state of befuddlement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Appa...?” Chanyeol remembers hearing his son mumble, the haze of sleep evident, obvious in the raspy tone of voice, and the father remembers having been immediately shaken awake, broken out of his reverie as his focus now zoned in onto his son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and it was at that </span>
  <em>
    <span>exact</span>
  </em>
  <span> moment did Chanyeol realise why, and how he had managed to keep his eyes dry throughout the morning, how he had managed to retain his composure all throughout the routine activities that they came to do every year on Jongin’s birthday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... It’s because of you, Jongin-ah,” Chanyeol had whispered, pulling his son in closer as he pressed a soft kiss against the top of his son’s head, lips pursed against the even softer strands all mused up there.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“... It’s because Appa has you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jongin had been the one and only healing salve that Park Chanyeol had ever needed, the presence of his son nothing less than pure sunshine, pure love, angelic and ethereal in its little entirety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had never noticed, never paid attention, but it had only taken Jongin’s one lone comment on that fateful day for him to finally start paying attention, for him to finally step back and realise just how much brighter his days had become, just how much lighter his chest had felt, how much happier </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> had become.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin’s smile had been his light, his son’s laughter being his guide, and his son’s love being his home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Park Chanyeol would never have it any other way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was how it had been; how the rest of their lives had planned out from there, just the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Park Chanyeol and Park Jongin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and it had remained that way, just them two, up till grade school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up until they met a certain Byun Baekhyun and a certain Byun Sehun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been a meeting by chance, an opportunity that Chanyeol had stumbled upon as soon as he had let go of a seven-year-old Jongin’s hand, waving away to his brightly smiling, excitedly giggling son as he scampered off towards the school hall, the usual first-day jitters apparently not having had had Jongin on their list.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His son had been entirely too excited, little Jongin packing his bag and yelling about the house a whole entire day ago, screams for “Appa! Where are my colour pencils!” and “Appa! Where’s my water bottle!” ringing about their apartment at eight on a Sunday morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had been nothing but shaken awake, jolting straight out of his own bed as soon as the first ring had left the lungs of his son, hurriedly padding into Jongin’s room as soon as he had a semblance of his vision back, rid of the haze of sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Father had only walked in to a while and entire mess, Jongin’s room having been flipped turn upside down once he had landed himself in front of the doorway, the only “neat” part of the room being the clean circle surrounding Jongin’s little backpack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin hadn’t even brushed his hair, and Chanyeol was willing to bet that he hadn’t even brushed his teeth either, but that hadn’t stopped the child from wrecking absolutely havoc about his room in order to prep for his first day of school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something that they had a whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>24</span>
  </em>
  <span> hours left to prep for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Jongin had been insistent, the child’s expression morphing into a frown as soon as Chanyeol had started his arguments of “Nini-yah, we can do this later, let’s have breakfast first” and also “Nini-yah, you have to brush your teeth first”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The child’s frown had only grown deeper and deeper with each placating syllable that left his father’s lips, one which Chanyeol had quickly noticed himself too (what with him having grown to be very, very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> familiar with the signs of an upset Jongin), and Chanyeol had quickly made to surrender, arms coming up in defeat the same time his head had dipped, chin digging into his chest as he gave into his son’s whims.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin’s squeal of happiness had never rung louder, and neither had Chanyeol’s groan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fast forward to the next day, and Chanyeol was internally grateful that they had prepared Jongin’s bag quite early, for it had showed a glimpse of how excited and ready for school Jongin had been, a complete 180 as compared to how Chanyeol had pictured how Jongin’s first day of school would have gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Father was satisfied, and could only smile as pride filled his chest, ballooning within him as Jongin’s scamper blew into a full blown sprint, Chanyeol’s smile only dimming down into a soft tilt of his lips once Jongin had successfully blended into the mass of students, Chanyeol losing sight of him then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was then did he allow himself to open his senses to his surroundings again, the sole person his focus had tunnelled into no longer around, and it was the sound of faint sniffles that caught his attention, the source sounding suspiciously close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tilting his head a little to his right, Chanyeol was met with the sight of a red-rimmed, splotched-nose man, his lips, wobbly and shaky, curling up around pristine, perfect teeth, barely hidden behind the sleeve of his own button-down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly reaching into his bag, Chanyeol had pulled out a pack of tissues, one of the many he always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> makes sure to keep on his person whenever he left the house with Jongin (with how much of a mess Jongin could be sometimes, even with plain crackers alone, Chanyeol had even made sure to pack extra wet wipes and sanitising liquids).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Offering up the newly opened pack of tissues to the other man, Chanyeol mumbled out a quiet “... Tissue?” as he watched how twin trails of tears escaped the rapidly blinking lids of the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man had heard Chanyeol, of course, and he had obviously been rather embarrassed being caught getting so worked up and emotional (if the sudden redness that bloomed across his cheeks and stained his ears were of any indication), but he had accepted Chanyeol’s offer anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently pulling out a sheet, the man only sniffled before he hurriedly dabbed at his eyes, the manner in which he had cleaned his face up rather elegant and graceful, movements calculated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pair had lapsed into silence then, the quiet broken only by the chit-chatter of the other parents and the sounds of the children; ranging from excited squeals to fearful cries, and it had ensured that the silence was still rather comfortable, the background noise putting their lapse in conversation far from an awkward one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But soon enough, the man had wiped his eyes dry and his face clean of any tears and mucus, face blazing into an even brighter red as he mumbled out his thanks, before crumbling the wet and used up tissue in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had only issued out a small, “it’s no problem”, before pocketing the pack of tissues, focus now on wrestling with the tight space of his little bag in order to fit in the pack in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, his focus was abruptly cut by the man, the stranger, really, for he had only mumbled out a shaky, yet dazed, “... How can you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had immediately flipped his gaze back over to the man, watching in slight confusion as he met with the stranger’s gaze head-on, Chanyeol able to pick out the notes of bewilderment, and even a hint of amazement swimming about the still very red-rimmed orbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With an unintelligent sound leaving his lips, Chanyeol only cocked his head to the side, the confusion evident in the way his own features began to morph into a frown, lips pulling up into a little pout, facial expression now mirroring his own son’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Chanyeol had asked, tone purely curious, confused, as he gazed back at the other man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger had only gulped, head dipping down as what Chanyeol could only presume to be embarrassment washed over him once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gesturing softly over to the direction of the school gates, the man mumbled out a low, “... that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could you let him go without crying like I did...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Chanyeol couldn’t help the light chuckle that slipped past his lips, the frown melting off his face as his features lit up in fond amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Chanyeol’s reaction had done nothing to appease the man, and in fact, had only served to further amp-up the blush that was wreaking havoc across his face, the shade of red deepening in tandem with the hunching of his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Chanyeol had began, voice void of any jabs or taunting, laced with nothing but genuine sincerity, “Jongin had been so excited for school, and his excitement left no room for tears from me, so I guess that’s why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had ended off his answer with a soft smile, the corners of his lips tilting up in fond affection for his son as his gaze drifted back over to the crowd of students packed in the hall, half-heartedly searching for a pair of bright and wide eyes, characteristic to his son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the single Father was quickly brought back to the conversation at hand, the other man’s hum of acknowledgement bringing back his focus, drawing Chanyeol back in before he truly got immersed in finding Jongin amidst the mass of students once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I guess that’s where we’re different,” the man had continued on, voice soft yet raw, the tears and sniffles probably having had rubbed his throat coarse, “... Sehun hadn’t been too excited, and I guess that </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> had left me room for thinking and realising things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol could sense that the man still had other things he wanted to add onto his statement, and had only hummed encouragingly in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I mean, I knew that this day would come,” he had ploughed on, voice taking on a more wistful note as his gaze drifted over to the hall of students, actions mirroring Chanyeol’s own a few moments ago, the man obviously seeking for his own son now, just as Chanyeol had been, “... but I had never thought that it would be this soon, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get what you mean,” Chanyeol had responded, his actions yet again dissolving back into what they were mere minutes ago, the two men now actively scanning the pool of students, each of them keeping both eyes out for their sons, “it’s like, they’re finally growing up, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, exactly that!” the other man exclaimed, the excitement and relief that his companion had understood his feelings evident in the rush of breath he had released right after, heels of his shoes slapping back down onto the ground as he gazed back at the taller man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like, he’s growing up so fast, and honestly it feels like it was just yesterday that I held him in my arms in the delivery room,” he had continued on, eyes taking on a wishful glint as his voice softened, “... and now he’s already in grade school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had only smiled then, completely and wholeheartedly understanding the man’s feelings, and where he was coming from, for Chanyeol had been through the exact situation himself before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... they’re growing up,” Chanyeol had continued on, breaking the lapse of silence that their conversation had fallen into, one that had been brought on by the rather heavy realisation that their sons were indeed growing up, and they were growing up fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... and they’ll only continue to grow up, whether or not we want them to or not,” Chanyeol carried on, his own tone, although much deeper and grittier than his partner’s own, replicating the softness in which the other man had spoken his last line, “... whether we’re ready for them to or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation had once again lapsed into a lull from that point, and although now they did not have the comfort of background noise, what with majority of the parents having had left sometime in the middle of their conversation, as well as how all of the students had already left the safety of their parents arms and had entered into the school hall, the silence hadn’t been uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been rather pleasant, actually, if Chanyeol were to say so himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” came the sudden cry from his companion, and Chanyeol quickly reverted his attention back onto the other man, and he was met with a pair of crescent-shaped eyes and a wide, sheepish little grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never got to introduce myself, have I?” the man had wondered, a bashful chuckle leaving his lips as his fingers proceeded to scratch the base of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Byun Baekhyun,” he had continued on, and Chanyeol inwardly smiled as he finally could label a name onto the man’s face, before he himself stuck out his own palm as he stated his own introduction, a curt yet friendly “I’m Park Chanyeol” leaving his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Baekhyun had only stared at Chanyeol’s outstretched palm in discomfort, top lip sucked into his mouth, bottom lip pursing into a pout as his eyes began shifting about, clearly fidgety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d shake your hand, really, I would,” Baekhyun had began as soon as his eyes flashed back up again, meeting with Chanyeol’s own, hidden beneath furrowed brows, hurriedly explaining himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gesturing to the rolled up tissue in his hand, Baekhyun only titled his head to the side as he offered yet another sheepish laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... But I don’t think you’d appreciate your hand being covered in my snot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Chanyeol couldn’t help but laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their conversations and meet-ups had only continued from there, the single fathers always catching sight of the other at 1.30pm every school day, both of them meeting a ways away from the gates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And their topics of conversation would sometimes be mundane, the everyday questions of “how was your day yesterday?”s and “what did you do over the weekend?”s being rather common the first few weeks after they had gotten to know each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But soon enough, upon the knowledge that their sons were in fact classmates, and even seat mates, the information that they shared soon included their sons as well; Jongin and Sehun acting as mediums through which they exchanged information about the other’s life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Sehun told me that Jongin and you visited the park yesterday, and that it was always something that you did?” as well as “I remember Jongin telling me last night that both you and Sehun baked cookies over the weekend, but apparently it didn’t turn out so great?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And their conversations would go deeper from then on; both parents laughing at the incident the other brought up, sometimes their laughter retained only to a short string of chuckles, and sometimes blowing into a full-on guffaw, but it would always be followed by a carefree, open, and fond recollection of the memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whilst most of their conversations went down the much cheery route, there had been times when they had touched on more deeper, perhaps even darker topics, their conversations growing more intimate and personal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Sehun told me that Jongin saw you quite upset last night, a penny for your thoughts?” and “... Jongin said that Sehun thinks that you haven’t been sleeping well the past few nights, is something keeping you up? Did something happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... Questions like these soon became much more common, their verbal communication growing much more intimate, much more personal as the days, as the weeks flew by, and soon enough the pair of single fathers had taken their conversations post school-gates-at-1.30pm-on-school-days, their conversations taken to restaurants where the parents, as well as their sons, would squeeze into a booth right after school, their conversation now influenced by the presence of two little rascals as they talked over food after both Jongin and Sehun had been released.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and with how Jongin and Sehun, with how their sons had grown to be so close, to tight, even dubbed to be “attached at the hip” by their own teachers, it hence hadn’t come as a surprise to either parent when asks and pleads of “Papa, can Jongin come over after school, please please please?” and “Appa, can I go over to Sehunnie’s house after school, please please please?” started spilling from their sons’ lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and who were Chanyeol and Baekhyun to resist?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, both Chanyeol and Baekhyun had always made sure to ensure that the other party was fine with having two more persons in their home before agreeing with their son, and it was always responded with a strong and firm affirmative, coupled with a warm, welcoming smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you can come over,” Baekhyun would say, his words echoing Chanyeol’s own “you two are welcomed any time and any day into the Park household”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And their little get-togethers had started from there, each Father-Son duo going over to the other Father-Son duo’s house a few times a week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and with each visit to each other’s homes, the longer their stays got.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had started out with the visits only lasting for a short couple of hours, the sons cooped up in either their own rooms or playing video games together in the living room, the screams and yells ringing loudly about the hallways and echoing deafeningly about the apartments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The adults would usually be stuck in the dining room, perched at the dining chairs and mingling over cups of coffee, each cup done to the other’s taste, letting their sons go about their ways as they immersed themselves in their conversation, in getting to know, in understanding the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But soon enough, their visits lasted well into the day, spilling into dinners, and eventually, well into the night, and these visits would usually occur when the Byuns would come over to the Parks, Chanyeol whipping up scrumptious yet hefty amounts of food, more than enough to feed the four of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when the hours had gone from the sevens and the eights into the tens and elevens, Chanyeol would urge the Byuns to stay the night, not willing and not wanting the Father and Son to travel out so late into the night, even though their own apartment was five blocks down, even when Chanyeol would be able to drive them over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Chanyeol hadn’t realised then, hadn’t factored in nor gave it too much thought the first time the Byuns had slept over, the reason behind why he had been so adamant in having them stay in night instead of going back to their own apartment, and it hadn’t been until Jongin had yelled, right at the top of his lungs, fuelled by anger and frustration at a certain Byun Sehun...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa! Sehunnie doesn’t wanna let me win!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... the whole house had fallen into silence, Jongin’s yell still very much ringing about the walls as his finger jabbed right into Sehun’s chest, the adults only watching, gobsmacked, as Jongin only frowned harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But their silence hadn’t lasted for long, for they hadn’t had to wait even a moment before Sehun himself had broke it, the Byun son retaliating with his own yell of, “Well, Appa was the one that taught me how to play this game, so too bad that you can’t beat me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... it was so obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... It had always been so, so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol hadn’t known, hadn’t realised, hadn’t even thought that it would be possible, but yet—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘... I want to spend time with him, with them,’ he had thought, he had realised, eyes wide and lips tight,</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘... I want to spent the rest of my life with them.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fathers had spoken about it then, the manner in which their sons had addressed the other with the respective name calling for a mandatory, urgent... “meeting” between the two adults.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... the “meeting” had been nothing more than a shy confession between the two older Park and Byun, Chanyeol stumbling over his own words as he did his own feet, voice void of its usual confidence and poise as he mumbled through his syllables, the anxiety and nervousness eating up some of his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Baekhyun hadn’t been one to laugh, for he had been in the same exact predicament, the older Byun nothing less than a blushing, stuttering little mess, swaddled up in Chanyeol’s own t-shirt and sweatpants, both of which hung a little too loose on his shoulders and hips, perched on corner of the older Park’s bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... What does this make us?” Chanyeol had voiced, tone nothing more than a whisper, the softness influenced by Chanyeol’s awareness of how their sons have already gone to bed, snuggled up under the covers of Jongin’s own, but also very much (very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> much) influenced by his own jittery emotions, feelings gone haywire in light of the conversation that he was having with Baekhyun then, in light of the conversation that he was sharing with Baekhyun then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Baekhyun had only hunched in on himself, shoulders coming up to shield his ears and chin digging deeper into his chest, in a manner not unlike that the first time the two had met, when embarrassment had washed over the older Byun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I’d say married,” Baekhyun finally mumbled, breaking the silence, “... but I’m sure we have to be boyfriends before that can happen, don’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Chanyeol couldn’t help but kiss him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that had been how their relationship had progressed, the single fathers now jumping from friends to lovers, although the jump had retained only to the label on their relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In regards to their relationship itself? Well...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were already acting like a couple, weren’t we, Yeol?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, there </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be a reason why Jonginnie had called me ‘Papa’ with ease, and Sehun ‘Appa’ to you, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Chanyeol couldn’t help but agree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were very much already acting like a couple in a romantic relationship would act, the intimacy breaching past their verbal conversations long before either of the two had known, before either of them had realised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The abundance of texts and calls would never had compared to the number of clothes they shared, the number of times they fed the other, and the number of times they hugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The midnight calls and lengthy texts would not have compared to how intimate the two had gotten physically, yet the change in the nature of their relationship, the change in the level of intimacy when it came to the two of them, physically, went entirely over their heads, both Chanyeol and Baekhyun having had remained entirely oblivious to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘But thank goodness we realised,’ Chanyeol thought, head nodding in the direction of Sehun and Jongin, watching with bated breath as his sons, as </span>
  <em>
    <span>both his sons,</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurriedly made their way over to their car, to their family car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the day of Jongin’s and Sehun’s graduation from grade school, and the pair had dressed up quite handsomely in their navy blue robes topped off with matching scholar hats, the levels of excitement the two had for their ceremony the exact same as the ones they had for their first day of school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin was much too excited, whereas Sehun seemingly almost couldn’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was the exact same for the parents, for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fathers,</span>
  </em>
  <span> for Chanyeol couldn’t stop smiling, the excitement bubbling right beneath his skin akin to the one he felt on Jongin’s first day, the grin stretched across his lips never once dimming down throughout the entirety of the ceremony, and Baekhyun—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, similar to Sehun’s first day...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older Byun had cried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Chanyeol felt slightly guilty, honestly, his own head dipping down slightly as he pursed his lips, gaze dropping down to his own feet as his chest seized in its expanding, the older Park having had to hold his breath as he steadied himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he steadied himself on his one knee, and one foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... for he knew he was about to make Baekhyun cry even harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Will you marry me...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“... Yes.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. My First Word</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When both Chanyeol &amp; Baekhyun came back home from their anniversary date, they couldn’t help but smile at their still standing house and happy toddler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I guess we definitely doubted your skills, Sehun—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Daddy! Papa! I learnt a new word today!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ‘fuck’!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... Silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... nothing but pure, pin-drop, </span>
  <em>
    <span>silence.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I—,” Baekhyun could only stutter, eyes blown wide and lips parted, mouth agape and jaw hanging as he swivelled his gaze over to his son, eyes breaking away from the proud, satisfied ones of their friend, the “Babysitter-for-the-night”, Oh Sehun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... U—Uh,” the carrier parent only continued on, mind both blanking and buzzing at the same time, thoughts flying and twisting about the space, the speed so quick and so rapid that all that it resulted in was one mess of a blur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... What did you say, Sweetie...?” Baekhyun prompted, voice nothing above a mere whisper, the disbelief and sheer, raw, shock lacing the faint, airy mumble, the incredulity obvious in his tone, mirrored in swirling of his orbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other two adults were in similar states of shock, too, their own frames stilling and jaw hanging, faces akin to that of a gaping, gasping fish pulled right out of the water, eyes blown and brows raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All three pairs of eyes, wide and distrustful, incredulous, were soon enough zeroed in on the little toddler, three-year-old Haneullie scampering his way over from the living room couch towards the doorway, small feet pattering against the wooden flooring as the grin stretched across his lips grew wider and wider with each little step he took.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ‘fuck’!” the little one exclaimed, stilling in front of his carrier Father, arms raised in pure, innocent excitement and joy, beady eyes glinting with bright, blinding satisfaction and happiness, the thought of having learnt a new word reflected in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard Uncle Sehun say it today!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Instantly,</span>
  </em>
  <span> two pairs of eyes swivelled back towards a still very much shell-shocked one, the precious widened gazes narrowing down into slits so rapidly, the blank stare in them dissipating, morphing into one of pure </span>
  <em>
    <span>fury</span>
  </em>
  <span> so swiftly, that the person at which the gazes were directed at, A.K.A. a specific, lone, and singular Oh Sehun, had hurriedly stepped back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feet faltering against the flooring of the house, the babysitter urgently brought his hands up, palms facing the clearly enraged pair as his arms folded against his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With little dots of perspiration breaking onto his forehead, the little droplets dotting along his skin, Sehun had quickly begun giving little shakes of his head, the action very much minute, almost invisible to the naked eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes blown wide open, and lips retaining their previously agape state, Sehun could only shake his head, fervently denying any and every sort of claims (or curses, or yells, or even damnations to Hell) as he felt the blood rush down his face, his skin no doubt paling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I— I don’t know wh—“</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You </span>
  </em>
  <span>cursed</span>
  <em>
    <span> in front of my child?!“ </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The... well, “yell”, had been nothing above a whisper, of course, the voice raspy and breathy, almost quiet, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but the sheer, raw, and unrefined emotions, the uncouth, obscene, and vulgar threats and curses that were laying right beneath the syllables, the feeling laced intricately, almost delicately discreetly into the deceivingly light-hearted angry tone, cut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and they cut </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“N—No!” Sehun hissed back, the argument (and also the need to save his own ass) pulling a rise out of him, the need to prove himself innocent overriding all other thoughts, all other emotions, wiping his head clean of any and all possible rational courses of action, and the consequences of the actions he was about to take.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I— I didn’t curse in front of him—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Then are you accusing my child of </span>
  <em>
    <span>lying?!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... See...?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... “wiping his head clean of any and all possible rational courses of action, and the consequences of the actions he was about to take.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling the blood rushing through his veins, at speeds much faster, too fast, really, fuelled and pumped by nothing but pure terror, Sehun quickly made to defend himself, tongue slipping and lips constantly smacking against one another in his mad rush to fucking English—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—No! I’m not accusing Haneullie of </span>
  <em>
    <span>lying,</span>
  </em>
  <span> what the fu—“</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Curse one more time and I’ll castr— </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ow!</span>
  <em>
    <span> Baekhyun, that hurt!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> using that word in front of our son, Chanyeol—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit— oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck— </span>
  </em>
  <span>oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>crap—</span>
  </em>
  <span> oh— </span>
  <em>
    <span>OW—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Papa what’s ‘shit’ and ‘crap’...?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>... Byun Baekhyun was a lot of things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An established business owner, a renown wedding singer, a Master’s holder, a dutiful son, a rascal of a little Brother, a lovely grandson, a loving Husband, and a doting Father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but what he was not, however, was a person that entertained pure and utter bullshit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—I’m literally banished to the couch for— for— for fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever</span>
  </em>
  <span> because of your dumbass—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Me?! Sweetie, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one that cursed in front of Haneul </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Baekhyun, and not to mention, used the very Three™ words that were at the very, very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> top of the Words To Not Be Spoken In This Household™ list!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For God’s sake, Baekhyun literally attached it to the fridge! With a damned </span>
  <em>
    <span>pink ice cream magnet—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of a heavy wooden door swinging open had interrupted the two men, forcing their (rather loud, to be quite honest, how inconsiderate) bickering to come to a halt, their gazes and focus now sweeping over to the hallway, anticipating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two men didn’t have to wait long before the quick, short, but determined pitter-patter of footsteps began raining down the hallway, echoing about the walls of the house, and soon enough, Baekhyun had stepped out of the corridor, back straight, and face blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(... *shivers* ... scawy.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... If I hear </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> more curse word from either of you two dumbasses tonight...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... *dramatic pause, Baekhyun’s face going blank, eyes boring holes into the other two men’s faces, and the hissing sound of pee running down legs*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> castrate you two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn fucking well</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and with that, Baekhyun had took off, the heels of his feet twisting about the floor of the empty hallway, before elegantly, frame poised and resolute, striding back down the corridor, back to the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... but why does </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> get to curse and we don’t...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Carrier rights, Sehun, it’s an actual thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... and oh! Before I forget!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, Sehun—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> Park Chanyeol—!“</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“—FUCK—”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Princess Drama</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Baekhyun suggested going as Disney characters for Halloween, he never thought he’d be a Princess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... But, Papa is a man, Sweetheart, men can’t be Princesses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... But Daddy called Papa ‘Princess’ last night,” Haneul had pouted, “and Papa liked it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... Silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two parents could only blink their eyes, frames frozen and breaths still, orbs widened in complete and utter </span>
  <em>
    <span>shock</span>
  </em>
  <span> as they simply gazed back at their three year old.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little toddler, however, was seemingly immune to the sudden quietness that enveloped the household, expression still fixated in its previous one of petulance, lined with hints of confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haneul has his little brows furrowed, a barely-there wrinkle forming in between them as his eyes only focused on his carrier Father, his gaze boring into Baekhyun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Uh—“ Baekhyun could only stutter, voice leaving him and words failing him as his brain did its hardest to wrap around and process whatever his son had just said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The English language was failing him tremendously then too, for Baekhyun, somehow or rather, seemingly could not bring up any words, throat clamping shut and mind a whirl as soon as the reality of their situation, the reality of their </span>
  <em>
    <span>reality,</span>
  </em>
  <span> dawned on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... His son had literally overheard him and his Husband having... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daddy-Princess sex</span>
  </em>
  <span> the night before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but considering how Haneul had only spoken about how he had heard “Princess”, and not the “Daddy” part of it yet, Baekhyun felt that he could, well, give a little leeway for his breathing, the gratitude at realising (perhaps even hoping) that their son hadn’t heard Baekhyun calling Haneul’s Daddy, well... his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Daddy” lifting up the weight on his chest—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—and I also heard Papa calling Daddy, ‘Daddy’!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that Papa’s new name for Daddy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... he spoke too soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun could only stare at his son, his own eyes, which were the exact mirror image of little Haneul’s own, the disbelief and pure, unadulterated </span>
  <em>
    <span>shock</span>
  </em>
  <span> swimming about his orbs, wrecking havoc across the deep brown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain short-circuiting, the carrier Father could only gape at his son, jaw unhinging, hanging loosely as his lips parted, and with his open jaw coupled with that of his wide, almost bulging eyes, Baekhyun’s expression was akin to that of a dead fish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, when the silence had only dragged on, the quiet pulled and extended onwards, it soon had become enough for little Haneul’s own gaze of petulance to drop completely, instead the hints of confusion growing, interlacing, and plastering itself across his soft features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his brows releasing themselves from their furrow </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> a tad, the tension instead migrating over to his pursed, small, and pouty lips, Haneul’s expression of peevishness soon melted away, replaced instead by one of curious, and innocent wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Papa?” the child had called out, gaze boring into his father’s (hazy, shocked, unbelieving) own, head tilting a little to the side as Haneul pushed his palms against the soft mattress, torso pulling up, the toddler wanting to get closer to his carrier parent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, the sudden movements from Haneul had been enough for Baekhyun to register </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what was happening, the realisation of where exactly he was it rushing back, hitting him right smack in the middle of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head lightly, Baekhyun only hurriedly blinked his eyes, in an effort to get rid of the veil of (uncalled and unappreciated) shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(... because honestly, which parent in their right mind would ever foresee, or ever appreciate their child coming up to them and yelling in their faces that “hey guess what! I heard y’all fucking with some kinky ass shit last night!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... granted that those weren’t the actual words used, but they suffice either way.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But anyway, back to the present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving his head yet another, although much more firmer and much more </span>
  <em>
    <span>final</span>
  </em>
  <span> shake, Baekhyun blinked his eyes as he pushed the last few remnants of the remaining haze away, vision now clear and focus heightened as his eyes landed back on his son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Baby,” Baekhyun had cooed, palm coming up from under his head as he reached over to where his son was, perched on his soft palms right in the middle of his parents’ bed, a welcomed habit that the little family embraced in every morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was routine for Haneul who, as soon as he was awaken from his sleep, would scamper off to his parents’ room, socked feet sliding against the wooden flooring of their hallway, the soft, cottony hood of his sleeping onesie endearingly flopping over behind him in his haste to get to his fathers’ room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the little one would only grip the knob of the master bedroom securely, and tightly in his small hands, ensuring that his grip was firm and solid, before using all his strength and his weight (sometimes even standing up on his tippy toes to do so), into opening the door as quietly as he could, understanding that sometimes, his Daddy would still be asleep even then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, his Papa would always be awake, being an early riser himself (... which made sense as to why little Haneullie was an early bird, too, considering how the tot was seemingly an </span>
  <em>
    <span>exact</span>
  </em>
  <span> replica of his carrier Father), and Haneul would always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always,</span>
  </em>
  <span> be greeted with a soft, small smile, the corners of his father’s lips curling up in love and affection, the expectation painting in the droopy eyes a fond, bright glint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Haneul would only smile, would only grin back, his own cheeks puffing up in joy and excitement, in happiness and anticipation, of being in his father’s hold, in his parents’ embrace once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and then the family would talk, about anything and everything, really, the conversation following the direction set by the littlest one, the toddler holding the uncanny ability in being able to talk for hours and hours on end, about any and every topic under the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and today, it had been about the upcoming, infamous holiday; Halloween.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongdae, Haneul’s preschool teacher and the parents’ very own college mate, was hosting a party for his friends and their families on the day of the holiday itself, and had instructed each and every invited party (which included the children themselves), to come in dressed as a character, and it couldn’t be half-assed, for if not, dire consequences would befall them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... at least, that had essentially been the message, because the actual wording had been:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dress up and go full out, bitch, bc I’d chop your baby-making balls off if you don’t”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But don’t worry, Haneul hadn’t been given </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> invitation, for Jongdae, out of his own good, free will, had specially crafted and distributed a special, Kid-Friendly™ invitation himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come to the party as the best Superhero, or as the prettiest Princess! Because if there is a better Superhero, or a prettier Princess, then Uncle Jongdae will be sad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... how unfair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kids literally got the cutest invitations, whilst the adults had one that basically was as good of a cock-block to the fun in costume hunting as it was to mind-blowing sex, because right now? Well, Baekhyun’s pretty much scared of not his outfit not being... “dope” enough, which would ultimately result in him getting thrown out of the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Jongdae has done it before, which is why Baekhyun, as well as his Husband, was taking his... “threat”, seriously).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Baekhyun honestly doesn’t know whether going as a “Princess” would suffice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Haneullie,” came the deep groan, gritty and rough about the edges, laced heavily in sleep, and Baekhyun immediately felt how the bed had shifted, the springs sinking and squeaking as the large lump that was his Husband stretched and twisted about, knocking out the kinks of sleep as he turned to face their son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haneul had only hummed, head immediately turning on his neck as his lips only pulled themselves into a bigger pout, the upset at not having his Papa reply to his question growing more and more apparent with each second of silence that passed ... Which was when Chanyeol had swooped in, having had already been awake (although, at most 50% awake, really) throughout the entire time Haneul had been talking, senses tingling, urged into life with each syllable that slipped past his son’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as his gaze had landed on his son’s own frowning one, Chanyeol couldn’t help the laugh that pushed itself up his throat, spilling into the serene air of their room, the sight of his confused, and maybe even slightly distressed son pouting only serving to amuse him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Baby,” Chanyeol cooed, palm coming up from under the covers to curl around his son’s back, fingers resting, touch soft and gentle, fond and familiar, “... You know how </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> call Daddy, ‘Daddy’...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol’s gaze, although half-lidded, was still focused enough on his son to register the manner in which the soft hair had flopped ever so slightly, following the movements of his head as the toddler nodded, and it was only then did Chanyeol continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Well,” the father had drawled on, head shuffling against the mattress as he brought his frame closer to his Husband and child, lips curling up as he took in the wonderful sight that was splayed out in front of him; his two most important, most </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span> people in the world, right there with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling lighting, Chanyeol inched his face closer to his son, the sudden rush of warm love and affection pushing him to press a soft, long kiss against Haneul’s fluffy little cheek, eliciting a bright, childish giggle from the small one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Papa is as much Daddy’s ‘Baby’ as you are, Sweetheart,” Chanyeol continued, nuzzling his nose against Haneul’s own button one, “that’s why Papa calls me ‘Daddy’ too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, the toddler’s mouth immediately dropped open into a tiny, round little “o”, his eyebrows rising alongside the widening of his eyes, understanding dawning across his features.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had only laughed, the sight being presented to him by Haneul being nothing short of amusing, and the father could only press yet another kiss to his son’s face, although this time, the kisses were peppered all over the tot, and this had only served to pull out yet another bout of giggles from the toddler. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... And about Daddy calling Papa ‘Princess’,” Chanyeol continued on, only after pressing a last, final kiss on his son’s forehead before pulling back, wanting for his son to look at him as he explained (... and, by extension, saved his husband’s ass from having to wear a dress), </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Papa is only </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daddy’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> Princess, Sweetheart,” the Father mumbled, pulling his son closer to his chest as he nuzzled his cheek against Haneul’s own yet again, “... and he is no one else’s Princess, so that’s why Papa cannot wear a Princess dress, Sweetie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... because if Papa </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> wear a Princess dress, that means that he is also everyone else’s Princess,” Chanyeol explained, voice soft yet rough, gritty in its familiarity and affection, “... and we don’t want that, do we...?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We don’t want everyone else to see how </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span> Papa is, do we...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Chanyeol immediately felt a rush of pure, unrestrained, unrefined, almost Supreme Alpha pride blossom in his chest, the warmth spreading, rushing through his veins, saturating his blood, as soon as he registered how Haneul had only nodded, the little toddler even mumbling a resolute, resounding, “Yes, Daddy”, agreeing with his Father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(After all, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one who managed to save their asses yet again, of course he’d be proud!)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright~,” Chanyeol had cheered, giving a final pat on his son’s back before he drew back enough to be able to see his Husband as well, “... I guess we need to come up with another costume idea, don’t we...?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... Hey, Love?” Chanyeol had called, voice loud enough to get the attention of his Husband, who had been a few steps in front of him, lazing along the aisle of the store as he was pulled along by an overly excited, hyperactive Haneul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the call of his endearment, Baekhyun had turned around, placing a soft hand on Haneul’s shoulder as a call for their son to calm down as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, when all that he was met with was his Husband pointing in the general direction of the…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Should we get a contractor...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Yes, yes we should.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... for Chanyeol had been pointing in the direction of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>acoustic foams,</span>
  </em>
  <span> aka... </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Soundproofing Material”.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>... and </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> did </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> need those.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Kitchen Krisis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The last thing that Chanyeol expected to come home to was an upset Husband, a confused 3-year-old, and a plate of what could only have been an... </span>
  <em>
    <span>attempt</span>
  </em>
  <span> at Chanyeol’s kimchi spaghetti.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... He said he hates my cooking—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haneullie didn’t say that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—Yes, you did!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” came the indignant little scream, the toddler’s voice unconsciously taking on a pitch higher in his desperation to get his point across, the adamancy and resolution evident in the way the little one’s eyebrows had begun to furrow right above widened eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haneullie didn’t say that, Papa!” the toddler only continued on, his own lips beginning to purse themselves into a tight, tiny pout, the emotions of slightly annoyance leaking past his prior, confused facade, and stamping themselves all about his small features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The toddler was getting perhaps a little irritated, that was obvious, for the feeling of being wronged was clear in the manner in which their son had only huffed, the harsh, quick sigh escaping through the tight, almost nonexistent gap between his pair of lips a rarity that occured in their household, a rarity that occured point blank, actually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Chanyeol could only watch, his own eyes widened, his own eyebrows raised, and his own lips pursed as he took in the scene in their kitchen, his last few brain cells working tirelessly to plot the points (barely) presented to him together, needing to put the image of the context of the situation together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(The rest of his brain cells have all been fried from work, you guys.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but the situation had only progressed on further, the scene panning out without care nor concern for the taller father’s (slow) progession in the “Understanding-Just-What-The-Fuck-Is-Going-On-In-My-Kitchen”ery department right up top, for the little toddler had only continued on, voice not a beat softer than its previous tone as he clenched his little fist in determination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Haneullie only said that Papa’s cooking isn’t as good as Daddy’s—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and that had been the absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing to say to Baekhyun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... to an </span>
  <em>
    <span>expecting</span>
  </em>
  <span> Baekhyun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... for Baekhyun had immediately, without hesitation, completely </span>
  <em>
    <span>broke down.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The other two in the room had instantly recoiled, their own frames jolting in shock, their actions simultaneous with the manner in which Baekhyun’s own sobs had wrecked havoc through his frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his face hurriedly buried in his hands, palms and fingers both pressed against the softness of his own cheeks, pushed against the closed eyelids, and skin consistently, uniformly being met with the hot, hot, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span> tears that relentlessly seeped past his eyelids...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... Baekhyun cried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and it wasn’t long before the quiet sobs had escalated into hiccups, the muted cries developing into harsh whimpers, the trembling in his frame growing into nothing less than what could only be described as sharp, jarring, </span>
  <em>
    <span>jolts.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was all it took, really, for Chanyeol to finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally,</span>
  </em>
  <span> snap out of his frozen stupor, the cogs in his head spinning so rapidly, mind trying to come to terms with what exactly was happening (because it was literally only two seconds ago that his pregnant Husband was simply pouting at his exact replica for simply “hating” his cooking, so why— no, wait, </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> did he end up crying so hard now...?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Chanyeol had quickly put his unnecessary question— I mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>concern</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at the back of his mind, his feet now working on their own, actions and steps directed solely based on his instinctive, almost automatic response to a crying Husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soles of his feet twisting about the hardwood flooring, Chanyeol had swiftly strode over to his visibly distressed Husband, his own heart hurting, chest clenching, tightening with each sob that slipped past his husband’s lips, the sounds nothing less than heartbreaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his own features twisting up into one of pure concern and worry for his beloved, Chanyeol hurriedly closed the distance between them, a frown, one that was detailing of nothing else but his own concern for his Husband marring his features, and the lines had only dug deeper into his skin the closer he had gotten to Baekhyun, the more sobs that spilled past his expecting husband’s lips, echoing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>painfully,</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the four walls of their kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before Chanyeol had gotten close enough to his Husband, of course, (he made great use of his mile-long legs, thank you very much), and as soon as Baekhyun was within extremely close vicinity, the taller Father had quickly stretched out his own arms, limbs hurriedly encasing his crying husband’s shaking frame as he pulled him closer to himself, enveloping him in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one large, calloused palm perched right at the back of Baekhyun’s head, Chanyeol gently guided, coaxed his husband’s head to situate itself right in the crook of his neck, helping his Husband bury his face there, knowing, after so many years of being together, of loving each other, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the best position to get Baekhyun to calm down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his fingers sifting through the soft, fluffy hair at the back of his head, touch nothing more than gentle, fingers carding through the hairs with pure fondness and affection, Chanyeol quickly began to hum, the low timber of his deep, gritty voice lacing together in notes to form a soothing, calming melody, one that Chanyeol had crafted, all those years back, specifically to help soothe his Husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was that very tune, really, that had managed to calm down a racing heart the night before a major examination, and it was that very same tune that helped fuel courage and crumble fear in light of grasping onto new opportunities and opening of newer, better, and bigger doors...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and also the very tune that helped abate the constant, heavy, and raw tears that marked themselves across pale, sunken cheeks, streaking across splotched, red skin and bitten, bruised lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey,” Chanyeol had mumbled, lips pressed right against the temple of his husband’s forehead, soft muscle caressing the soft skin there, pursed, “... I’ve got you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but that, unfortunately, had only served to further aggravate his husband’s cries, really, for Baekhyun had only crumpled even further into himself, palms pressing even closer to his face as his body shook even more, the sheer intensity of his cries, the sheer volume of his sobs only slowly, but steadily growing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> in return, had only managed to coax out the very same cries and sobs from the other, tinier one in the room, their little toddler visibly affected by his carrier’s pure, unadulterated distress and tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... So it wasn’t long before Chanyeol was faced with not one crying person, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> crying persons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and both of which the two people he loved the most in the whole entire world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... both of which he couldn’t stand to see cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panicking, and feeling his own eyes start to well up with tears (because of course, dear, who wouldn’t cry when your own partner and toddler were both crying, of which you can’t really do much about), Chanyeol quickly stretched out his other hand, reaching for his crying toddler as the other remained perched at the back of his husband’s head, pace never faltering in their sifting of his soft strands there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” Chanyeol had mumbled out, palm outstretched towards his tearing son, inviting for little Haneul to bring himself closer to them, something which the little one hadn’t hesitated to take up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his own palm trailing up along his torso, Haneul slowly curled his fingers about the thicker ones of his Father, soft palm kissing the rougher skin wrapped tight about the digit, before he began to pull himself on top of the table, little frame clambering onto the table before he began to crawl his way over to his parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his own lips pouted and chin crumpled, Haneul had only sniffled, his own cries and whispers growing in intensity, growing in volume, really, with each sob his ears had managed to catch, the very ones that Baekhyun released into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... which, considering their promixity, was basically </span>
  <em>
    <span>every, single, one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Ha—Haneullie is s—</span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Papa...!” the toddler cried out, lips curling around the syllables, cry heavily punctuated with hiccups and whimpers, the tears that had been welling in his eyes (for, like, two seconds), finally breaching past their dam, slipping past his eyelids, and staining the soft, rounded little cheeks in a manner that was so, so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> similar to that of Baekhyun’s own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... H—Haneullie lo—</span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> Papa...” the little one continued on, now perched right in front of his parents on the dining table, arms straightened under him as his eyes bore right into the side of his carrier father’s head, lips pulled into a grimace as the sobs continuously broke past his lips, the hiccups endearing, but the context in which they were let out nothing less than heart wrenching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S—So..." their little one carried on, tiny bum perching itself right on the table top as he let his arms fall free from their straightened holds, palms now slowly but steadily reaching out for his parents, for his carrier parent, in particular.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So—," Hanuel continued to hiccup, the desire, the need, almost, to be close to his parent, the very one he had unintentionally made cry, obvious, apparent in the way in which conflict had wreaked havoc about his eyes, the little one internally battling with no one else but himself on whether or not he should approach his father, on whether or not he was even allowed to approach him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... So Papa," the toddler carried on, voice nothing more than a mere whisper, the pitched tone tapering off into whimper as he only continued to bore his gaze into the side of his carrier parent's head, eyes searching desperately through the crumpled mess than was his father, the need to look his father in his eyes over-riding all possible other concerns, situating itself as the toddler's No. 1 priority for the time being.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"... please don't cry."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>... and, surprisingly, but at the same time not so much so, that had been enough, that had been all it took.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Baekhyun's cries had instantly watered down, the already muted whimpers and sobs fading off into sheer nothingness, hitched breaths and hiccups quieting down, calming down to shaky inhales and steady breaths, and, soon enough, the trembles that had one reigned control over the carrier's spine quickly diminished, the tremors releasing themselves of their hold over the parent's entire frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and soon enough, Baekhyun's palms had slowly begun to slip down his face, his palms instead now twisting about to turn the other way, the soft skin of his hands kissing against the suit-clad chest of his husband, before gently pushing himself away from the safe, fond, and always, always, so loving hold of his husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol, of course, had understood the message, and had quickly, but ever so slowly, for he hadn't want to aggravate nor potentially spur on yet another round of waterworks from his pregnant husband (because, honestly, he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> start crying if that were to happen), released his hold on Baekhyun, lips pressing one long, doting, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>final</span>
  </em>
  <span> kiss on the side of his husband's head, the touch of his lips against the warm skin there nothing short of comforting, of</span>
  <em>
    <span> loving,</span>
  </em>
  <span> before his palms gently migrated back down to his husband's shoulders, hands trailing, touch gentle and so, so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> soft, against the skin of his husband's cheeks, thumbs softly carding away all remnants of tears, smoothing away any lingering traces of the warm, salty little crystals, before tracking slowly down the long column of his neck, before perching right on the thin shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently pushing his husband away, enough for Baekhyun to tilt his torso about, frame and focus now situated on the little one perched on the dining table, hands outstretched and lips pouted, the toddler's silent call, silent need to be close to his parents obvious, screaming from his entire demeanour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his own lips pulling up into a small smile, the corners of the pink muscles gently pushed upwards by the sudden, immense love and affection that had begun to warm his chest, blossoming and spreading, tingling down his spine and tickling his nerves, Baekhyun slowly reached out for the crying toddler, his own palms, the very same ones that had been previously stained with his own tears (and maybe even some snot, but nevermind that—), had snaked themselves right under his son's arms, cupping the little one in his hold, before slowly pulling him off of the table and perching him right on his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Haneul, of course, had simply and absolutely revelled in his new position, feet scrambling against his father's lap as he hurriedly scampered to get on his feet, little toes digging into the soft, plump flesh of his father's thighs as the need to hold his father took the front seat in his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun could only laugh, really, as soon as he processed his son's antics, his own palms sliding across his son's back at the same time that Haneul's own, littler limbs curled around his neck, the toddler pulling himself closer to his father as he mirrored the same thing that Baekhyun had did to his taller parent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burying his face into Baekhyun's neck, Haneul only wrapped his arms tighter around Baekhyun, lids fluttering shut as he took in a deep inhale, wanting to cement the fact that he was back in his father's arms, the childish desire to seek comfort from his parent apparent in the seemingly insatiable hunger to get closer, and closer, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>closer</span>
  </em>
  <span> to his father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Understanding his son's actions, Baekhyun only hurriedly complied, his own arms now wrapping themselves tightly about his son's smaller frame, pulling the tiny body closer to himself, before eventually mirroring Chanyeol's own actions, placing his own palm right at the back of their son's head, fingers combing through the equally as soft strands there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... Ha—Haneullie is s—</span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Papa..." the little one had mumbled, lips pressed right against the curve of his father's neck, the words seemingly tattooed right on his carrier parent's skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... which was why Baekhyun instantly felt how the words soon morphed into whimpers, his son's lips curling up into a grimace, one that signified another onslaught of tears as Haneul only further tightened his hold on his father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly, for Baekhyun didn't want his son to start crying again (because he, too, would not be able to handle it, and Chanyeol would be faced with two crying babies— Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>persons,</span>
  </em>
  <span> yet again), Baekhyun hurriedly began to shush him, palms carding through the soft hairs and rubbing soft, wide, and soothing circles on his son's back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... Sh, sh," Baekhyun mumbled out, his own chin digging down to his chest as he brought his lips closer to his son's shoulder, pursing, before pressing long and tight against the soft, smooth skin there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... Papa's here, Sweetheart," he whispered out, voice not a beat louder as Baekhyun continued to pepper kisses along his son's skin, lips pressing into any and ever available patch that he could fine, not leaving any area uncombed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... Papa loves Haneullie too," Baekhyun continued on, the soothing circles that he had continuously rubbed into his son's back transitioning into soothing pats, his lips slowly trailing up from his son's limbs to situate themselves against his cheek instead, pressing a soft, fond, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span> so loving kiss there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... So Haneullie," Baekhyun breathed, tightening his hold on his son has he continued to pat his son's back, as he continued to soothe his endearingly, and adorably distressed son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... Please stop crying, too...."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and, again, with the situation and the context not having differed from the previous by much, if at all, that was all it took.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Haneul's sobs had instantly died down, the quiet whimpers and sobs fading off into similar, shaky inhales and quiet exhales, the toddler visibly calming down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and it was only when their son's breathing had completely evened out, had become completely level and regular again, and only when it was Haneul himself who had unlatched his tight, tight, tight hold on his father, before perching his own palms against Baekhyun's own chest, did Baekhyun reciprocate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently pulling themselves away from one another, both Baekhyun and Haneul simply smiled, identical lips pulling up into identical grins, identical cheeks ballooning into identical little marshmallows, and identical eyes curved up into identical, happy little crescents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... I love you, Papa," Hanuel had whispered, light voice raspy in its previous tear-jerking aggravation, the distress that had housed itself in the little body spilling into the light-hearted, pitched notes as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and Baekhyun, of course, had felt his heart clench in his chest, not from sadness or distress, like it did the first time he heart his son criticise his food—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(... technically, all that little Haneullie had said was that Chanyeol's signature kimchi spaghetti was nicer when it was made by the man himself, which was a fact!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... But Baekhyun's pregnant, so... y'know, "emotional turmoil", "mood swings", "unexplainable bouts of crying and rash", does it ring a bell...?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But anyway, rapidly moving on—)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—but instead, his heart clenched only because of the sudden rush of pure, unrestrained, and raw love and affection he had for his child then, the sheer fondness filling his entire system in a manner that was very similar to when he had previously laid his eyes on his son, teary and arms stretched, perched on the table top.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... Papa loves you too, Sweetheart," Baekhyun only replied, voice mirroring his son's own, not another octave higher, as his lips dropped down to a soft smile, grin softening as the love spreading about his chest slackened his frame, melting.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"... Papa loves you too."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"... I can't believe you cried because Haneul thought my cooking was better— </span>
  <em>
    <span>ACK—"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"—</span>
  <em>
    <span>You're</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one who made me cry!"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"What?!"</span>
  </em>
  <span> A shaking of head, a disbelieving frown, "Love, I wasn't even there when you cooked—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"—I'm sensitive and I'm emotional and I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>pregnant,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Darling! And all because you squirted in me—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"—Uh, technically, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you're the one who squirted but—</span>
  </em>
  <span> hey! That hurt, okay?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop being a smartass and agree with me and blame yourself! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're the one who got me pregnant and made me cry today, so apologise!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... Didn't I make it up to you by making you scream just no— </span>
  <em>
    <span>OW— Love, stop!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"... I can't believe I married you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... Oh, quit it," a pause, a cocky grin, "you married me because you love me, my Love— </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop hitting me, oh my god—"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"... You're insufferable...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... and I can't believe I love you, oh my God—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"—That you do, my Love, that you do."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. With Love, The Parks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Okay, so— Chanyeol’s grateful that his family loves his Husband, he really is!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... But maybe they were loving him a bit </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> much, because—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baekhyunnie, could you help Mom with something—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do it—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I want Baekhyunnie, not you, Yeol—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... What the hell—“ the </span>
  <em>
    <span>son</span>
  </em>
  <span> had only grumbled, voice low in his throat, brows furrowing, tightening along his forehead, shadowing large, wide eyes, annoyance and (if Chanyeol would ever admit, which honestly, he wouldn’t) petulance seeping, And swimming about the orbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had only watched, lower lip jutting out slowly and steadily, getting constantly pulled out, leading into a bigger pout being plastered over his lips, with each step his Husband, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>son-in-law, </span>
  </em>
  <span>was taking, Baekhyun heading towards where </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chanyeol’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> mom, and Baekhyun’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mother-in-law</span>
  </em>
  <span> was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming, Mom!” came the bright, cheerful little cry, Baekhyun’s own feet pattering against the flooring of the Park’s abode as he scampered over to the kitchen, hair flopping in very much the same way as his clean, soft, and fluffy cream sweater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the Park’s annual Christmas celebration, a family tradition that had been kept on since (probably) time was even a thing, what with Mama and Papa Park each having had grown up in households that, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>celebrated</span>
  </em>
  <span>-celebrated Christmas down to the “T”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the tradition was only kept alive, the couple bringing back the Christmas festivities and Holiday cheers ever single time December rolled around in the year, and Yoora and Chanyeol could only join them in back in the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, with both children of the Park couple having had grown up and were having their own lives to live, and eventually, their own spouses to “spouse”, eventually the annual Christmas celebration’s guest list expanded, the partners of their children joining in to celebrate the holiday with the family themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This year would mark the Park’s couple— no, wait, literally everyone in the household is a Park couple— okay, the ChanBaek couple’s fifth year being introduced to the Park family, Chanyeol having had introduced Baekhyun (his then Boyfriend of two-years), to his parents and sister on this very day, five years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would also mark the fourth year of them having announced their engagement to the rest of the family, the day signifying Baekhyun’s official, well, “transition” into being a member of their family.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, I’ve always considered you as my Brother-in-law the day Yeol over here introduced you to us, but it’s nice for it to be official.”,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chanyeol remembers his sister saying, lips pulled into a wide grin as one hand was situated at the top of Baekhyun’s head, fingers combing through the soft strands there, ruffling then affectionately.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Baekhyunnie,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> his Mother had cooed, arms stretched wide and grin almost splitting the bottom half of her face open, eyes glistening in the faint lighting, as she rushed forwards towards her son’s then fiancé,</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Baekhyunnie you’re now my son!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>... and at that time, Chanyeol had simply brushed it off, putting it off as his Mother simply being too caught up in her emotions as she embraced her son-in-law, but, well—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn’t have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because it had been a sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sign of his Mother sooner, and eventually, favouring his now Husband, over him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>her own son.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I’m her son, man,” Chanyeol had continued to grumble, hands coming up reflexively to curl about his torso, lips pursing into an even bigger pout as he rested against the doorway to the kitchen, eyes flitting over the mess that was spread out about the table, watching as Baekhyun (elegantly, and Chanyeol means it when he says “elegantly”) slipped on some oven mittens and began to pull out the freshly baked goodies from the oven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and, okay, yes, the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies definitely did something to help patch up Chanyeol’s (childish) pride, and had helped to soothe his (achy breaky) heart a little, but it wasn’t enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And you wanna know why?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because as soon as his Husband had pulled out the tray and had situated it on the marble island countertop, Baekhyun was immediately rewarded with a light pinch to his cheek and a warm, doting, “Thank you, Baekhyunnie!” from Mama Park herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His Mother had never done that to him in the past year, her own son she birthed from her own womb, and yet Baekhyun was the one getting special treatment?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even before him?!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... the</span>
  <em>
    <span> audacity.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop sulking, oh my God—“ came the ever so familiar, light chiding, the tone of voice carrying with it heavy doses of amused annoyance, Yoora’s voice a distinct characteristic of the household.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol had only whipped his head about, neck twisting as his eyes widened in shock (in part due to the sheer surprise at having been startled, and also, in part due to having been so transparent in his envy that even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yoora</span>
  </em>
  <span> found out).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> sulking, what the hell—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yoora had only retaliated, eyes rolling and palm curling up into a loose fist, leaving only her index finger free, before pointing it right in the middle of her younger brother’s forehead, “you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>soooooooo</span>
  </em>
  <span> obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, Yoora had immediately poked her younger Brother right smack in the center of his forehead, and hurriedly retreating her finger as she watched the small patch of skin blossom a bright red.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ow—“</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chanyeol had cried out, his own hands releasing themselves from the (petulant) crossing of arms as his palms swiftly went to his forehead, rubbing the sore skin there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This action was only accompanied by Chanyeol’s expression instantly melting itself off of all traces of annoyance and disbelief (at having his mom favour his Husband than her own son, of course), his features instead scrunching up into one of pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An expression that, honestly, Yoora herself was very much familiar with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell—,” Chanyeol continued to cry out, lips curling up around a hiss as one eye scrunched shut, palms hastily rubbing over the abused skin—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, like, before you call The™ Park Chanyeol, the Man™ himself, God forbid, weak, I’ll just let you know that Yoora had had her nails done.—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>the pain flaring up across his forehead, “Why’d you do that for?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Yoora, </span>
  <span>*whispers* that insolent brat,</span>
  <span> had the freaking gall to— to laugh, in her brother’s face!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like— ????</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And apparently, Chanyeol himself couldn’t believe it, for the next few words that slipped past his lips were, “You hurt me and you’re laughing about it?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Chanyeol’s dramatic outcry, Yoora only rolled her eyes, her brown pupils disappearing into her sockets, the exaggeration of the action screaming about exactly how stupid she was finding her brother out to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax,” she consoled, tone very much similar to how the child of a Baby Boomer would speak to their mom when she got angry at the staff themselves for the restaurant being full, “I do this to you all the time—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah—,” Chanyeol interrupted, the first few wisps of Younger Brother™ Park Chanyeol slowly awakening in light of their growing bickering, the child in the man slowly pulling itself out of its cage, “—But not with your nails done!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of her nails, Yoora seemingly shut off from the main point of their bickering, her eyes lighting up as she was reminded of her ($140, acrylic) nails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh—“ she exclaimed, lips now pulling into a bigger grin as excitement began to wash over her features, eyes alight in pure, unrestrained elation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling her hands up and splaying her finger out, palm facing outwards, Yoora hurriedly fluttered her fingers about, showcasing and displaying her... Christmas-themed nails to her Brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re nice, right?” she continued on, the entire previous context of their childish, typical sibling bickering apparently forgotten, mind now instead focused on, essentially, showing off her done nails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... which, if Chanyeol wasn’t lying, he really, really, reaaaaaally couldn’t give a shit about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It fits in with the holidays, doesn’t it?” Yoora had only glanced down, palms now facing her as she folded her fingers, eyes trailing along the crystals, the golds, and the whites—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yoora, Darling—“ came their mother’s call, voice soft and gentle, bright with the affection and adoration she had held as she was conversing with Baekhyun just a moment ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The call had gotten the attention of both her children, Yoora for, well, being addressed directly, and Chanyeol, for not being addressed at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” his sister called back, body now turning about to face their mother, feet taking a few steps forward, entering the war zone of flour and batter that was their kitchen, “did you need something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Mama Park had only nodded, a hum ringing about low in her throat as she gestured over to the empty, buttered up tray and the large bowl of batter situated right next to it, where Baekhyun was standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... Cupcakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, aka, Chanyeol’s Favourites™.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Help our Baekhyunnie out a bit, won’t you, dear?” she continued on, voice tapering off into a slight blur as she hurried over to the cooling rack, wanting to pack the cooled cookies into their jars and to clear the space for the new batch that were seconds away from being done in the oven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s struggling a bit and could definitely use some help, I think!” Mama Park has ended off, statement ending in a light-hearted giggle as she waved her daughter over, and that lone, bright sound of fond laughter was the catalyst to pulling out an equally as fond one from Yoora, and a sheepish chuckle from the Son-in-law in question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... as for Chanyeol?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All I can say is that the 25 year old had never pouted as big as he was doing now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Wait, Ma,” Chanyeol hurriedly interjected, foot stepping forwards, breaching past the threshold into the kitchen, frown back again, marring his features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... this was his absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>favourite</span>
  </em>
  <span> Christmas treat, and he had always been in charge of making the cupcakes, so why did it change this year...?!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, his call had seemingly went ignored, for his mother still had her back turned around and was still joyfully packing away the cookies into the cookie jars, not having heard her son calling out to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Ma,” Chanyeol tried again, voice growing louder this time, and it had been enough for garner the attention of Mama Park, sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but it had also been loud enough to gain the attention of his Sister, as well as his Husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... A.K.A., the Person-That-He-Was-Envious-Of-For-Hoarding-His-Mom’s-Attention-And-Love™.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chanyeol could only stand still, gaze now flickering back-and-forth between his Sister’s (amused, knowing, and downright infuriating) gaze, his husband’s (innocently confused, innocently adorable) gaze, and his mother’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Yes, Yeol?” his mother called out, hands and attention still focused on packing the goodies, unperturbed and perhaps even unbothered at the fact that she had given what was coined to be Chanyeol’s Sole Kitchen Duty™ for the past however many years, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone else.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning, Chanyeol continued to step forwards, uncaring of the (endearingly adorable) tilt of his husband’s head, Baekhyun genuinely curious as to what Chanyeol needed, as well as Yoora’s (shit-eating) amused grin, instead focusing on getting to where his mother was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Because he couldn’t have this conversation he heard by the other two in the room, of course! It was confidential matters, after all).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he had gotten close enough, Chanyeol swiftly bent down, situating his head next to his mother’s as he whispered out, vehemently and hotly, “aren’t the cupcakes supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> duty?!“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, all that earned him from his Mother was an unamused flitting of eyes, Mama Park obviously unamused as she gazed back at her son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I wanted to let Baekhyunnie try his hand at baking,” she drawled, her son’s expression of whiny annoyance apparently not interesting enough to grace her attention with, for she had barely looked at Chanyeol (like, literally, the gaze only lasted for two seconds), before she focused back down on the cookies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I thought you’d appreciate it, y’know,” she carried on, picking up the last few pieces of the goodies before placing them neatly in the cookie jar, “what with you having had constantly complained about having to do the cupcakes for the however many past Christmases we had so far—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, well, while that was in fact true, Chanyeol </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> complain... quite an extensive amount whenever his mom has nagged him to help her with the cupcakes every Christmas, that didn’t mean that Chanyeol was, well, remotely okay with the idea of giving what had been his rightful duty to someone else!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if that “someone else” was no other than his cute, tiny little Husband with the prettiest eyes and the most adorable smile and a heart of pure gold!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... But Ma—“ Chanyeol had started, ready to retaliate and stand his ground of the argument, the childish whiny that had been characteristic to him ever since the day he was born, slipping into his tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something which, unfortunately, Mama Park did not appreciate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go hang out with your Father, Yeol,” his Mother had interrupted, swiftly cutting off any argument as she waved her son off, pulling herself back from the counter as she slipped on the oven mittens, heading over to the ringing oven, “I’m sure Papa wants to speak to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... But I wanna do the cupcakes—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no you don’t,” Yoora swiftly interrupted, lips curling up into a light smirk as she fiddled about with the utensils in her hands, prompting Baekhyun to do the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a single, perfectly threaded eyebrow raised, Yoora only drawled on, “you just don’t want to feel left out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Chanyeol’s eyes widened, the glint in his sister’s a foreshadowing of what the brother knew would slip from her lips, something which he knew he couldn’t afford, not with Baekhyun in the same room as them all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noona,” Chanyeol vehemently hissed out, eyes widening in warning at the same time his lips curled up around the hiss, “shut up—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeollie‘s envious of you, Baekhyun-ah,” Yoora continued on, obviously uncaring of the way Chanyeol had literally just choked on his own spit, and instead continued gazing at Baekhyun, her own eyes softening at the endearing sight presented before her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun only only tilted his head to the side, adorable eyes hazing over in the confusion, brows furrowing in wonder as he processed his Sister-in-law’s words, his lips pulling themselves into a slight, small pout, clearly confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>... God,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yoora thought, her own lips now releasing themselves of their shit-eating smirk, instead pulling up into a fond, doting smile, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s adorable.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Why would Yeollie be envious of </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> though, Noona?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The innocent question had only managed to pull out a laugh from Yoora, notes of fond amusement lacing her tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well~,” Yoora drawled on, only continuing once her laughter had tapered off into small, tiny little chuckles. Placing a hand (don’t worry, it’s clean of any batter or any of that Christmas Goodies stuff) on Baekhyun’s cheek, fingers pinching the soft flesh there, Yoora’s own face scrunched up to mirror that of Baekhyun’s own as she uttered out the rest of her sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Because everyone here loves you more than we love Yeollie, dear,” Yoora continued, her adoration for Baekhyun obvious in the way her gaze softened as her Brother-in-law only continued giggling as she pinched his cheek, “Yeollie’s not used to that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But could you really blame us though, Yeol-ah?” came the unexpected, and definitely unappreciated statement (at least, for Chanyeol) from no one else but Mama Park herself, his mother now proceeding to place the new batch of Christmas goodies on the cooling rack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baekhyunnie’s so much more cuter!” she continued on, her own expression morphing into one of pure adoration the moment her eyes landed back on her Son-in-law, “I’d keep him in my pocket if I could!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words had only resulted in the room bursting into yet another bout of agreed chuckles and bashful giggles, for Baekhyun had instantly flushed a bright shade of red, the colour staining his ears and painting his cheeks, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> in turn had only managed to attract even more attention to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... and considering how the attention had been split between Chanyeol and Baekhyun initially, well, as of right now, Baekhyun had literally all of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... which meant that Chanyeol had 0.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a huff and an even bigger pout stamped on his lips (if that was even possible, to be honest), Chanyeol simply turned on his heels and hurried out to the balcony, hoping to find his father there and, I don’t know, wishing that his Father at least, at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>very least,</span>
  </em>
  <span> still loved his Son more than he did his Son-in-law.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... but when the first question that slipped past his father’s lips was, well…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, my son, how is our little Baekhyunnie doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>... the </span>
  <em>
    <span>audacity</span>
  </em>
  <span> of this household.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... Yeollie...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When all that earned Baekhyun was a deeper burying of his Husband in his own pillow, and Chanyeol pulling up his share of the sheets even higher across his shoulders, all that Baekhyun could do was pout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Yeollie I’m sorry...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Baekhyun’s dejected little apology, as well as the manner in which his Husband had genuinely sounded upset, Chanyeol couldn’t find it in himself to continue his little tirade any longer, and he had hurriedly flipped himself over to face his Husband, arm coming up to wrap around Baekhyun’s waist, pulling him in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... You don’t have to apologise, Love,” Chanyeol had mumbled once Baekhyun had been pressed right up against his chest, Chanyeol’s own lips pressed lightly against his husband’s forward, mumbling the word directly into his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... It’s not your fault that my whole entire family loves you so much,” Chanyeol continued on, his lips how pursing together, before pressing a light, fond, yet long kiss against Baekhyun’s forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... But why do you have to be so freaking cute and pretty and kind and aring and helpful and adorable and lovely and beautiful and perfect—“</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m nooooooooot—!“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well—,” Chanyeol hurriedly interrupted, pulling back slightly from their embrace in order to look his Husband in the eye, brows furrowed and expression unamused, “then explain to me, Love,” he drawled on, “explain to me why literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone else</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the world is in love with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... See! You can’t even answer—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But!” Baekhyun quickly interrupted, voice high and pitched, hinted with faint traces of panic, “but—...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I’m in love with you, though, Yeollie...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Isn’t that all that matters...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Who the hell gave you the right to win this argument.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A giggle, bright and bashful, followed by the burying of a face into a neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I hate you so much oh my god—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you don’t!” Baekhyun chirped, voice muffled against the skin of his husband’s neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... You looooooove me~!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I can’t argue with that, can I...?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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